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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762137">Vengeance is an Emptiness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness'>Cornerofmadness</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Buried Alive, Crime Scenes, Dark fic, Delusions, Drug Withdrawal, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Failed escape, Gen, Gore, Hallucinations, Humiliation, Infection, Kidnapping, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Mummification, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Non-consensual touch, Paddling, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Post-Episode: s01e20 Like Father ..., Psychological Torture, Restraints, Sensory Deprivation, Shock, Torture, Whump, Wounds, drugged, pus, references to human trafficking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:27:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>65,649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm expected blow back from Endicott’s death but he didn’t expect it to come so fast or so hard.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Waking Up Restrained</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Disclaimer:</b> Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it</p><p> </p><p><b>Notes:</b> Written for Whumptober 2020. As of day one, I plan to write a chapter per prompt. Keep an eye on the ever-evolving tags. I have it tagged for things that are in chapter one (or ones I know I have plotted out) but things can change as this grows.  However, as I have other obligations, I know I can’t do a chapter a day and this is very likely to run into November if not December. I hope you’ll come along for a walk on the dark side. Also written for the trope bingo prompt of  character in distress</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter One : Waking Up Restrained</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>For vengeance is an emptiness and he that seeketh it wasteth himself.  - Jeffery Farnol </b>
</p><p>Agony and damp cold forced Malcolm to surface from the inky ocean he’d been drowning in. The mess of his mind had been strobing images as it sucked him under: the girl in the box – even though he knew Sophie wasn’t dead – Endicott’s neck fountaining blood, his father giving him that knowing, self satisfied smile, Gil bled as white as his hospital sheets. It took several long moments to realize he was resting on an old fuzzy blanket over a cement floor and not in his loft.</p><p>Blinking back the pain and horror images, Malcolm fought to sit up. Strapped behind his back in something that felt like leather and metal, his hands throbbed. Were those his bed restraints around his ankles? Where were his shoes? For that matter where were his pants? He took quick stock of himself. Outside of his black boxer briefs all of his clothing was gone. He couldn’t see much else in the darkness. Was he in another damn basement? Yes, he had to be. </p><p>Malcolm tried to ignore the ache in his shoulders from their less than natural position with his hands behind his back and the aching along his ribs. Why did they hurt…oh, hell, had he been shot? The night started filtering back to him and a clammy sweat popped out all over his body. He’d been kidnapped <i>again</i>. If he lived, he’d never hear the end of this but it wasn’t his fault this time, not like with Watkins or with him and Vijay. Nerves crept up his spine like a furry spider, making his flesh twitch. With Watkins or even the robbery gang, he had information on them. Malcolm had begun to know and understand them which allowed him to predict and manipulate them. Knowledge was power, and right now, here in the dark, he was powerless. </p><p>He struggled to put events in order, hazy now because something was seriously wrong with his head. Someone had come to his door. Who? Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut. Why couldn’t he remember? He gave his legs an experimental kick, and they moved like gelatin. He’d been drugged, hadn’t he? Yes, he remembered the spike of fear and the gunshots that came after it. His chest hurt so much but if he’d taken a bullet there, he’d probably be dead. Had he arrested and someone done CPR? If his foggy brain was right and he’d been roofied, that could have happened. He was already on so many benzos that adding a powerful one like Rohypnol could have easily overdosed him. </p><p>A door creaked open and lights flared making him groan in pain as his retinas registered their protest. Heels clicked down a set of steps. Heels? Shelby! He remembered now. Shelby Hayes had paid him a visit. He hadn’t thought of her in years. She’d been two years older than him, and he’d gone to school with her brother, John who bullied him daily. Shelby, on the other hand, had been a goddess to his early teen self, silky gold hair and eyes the color of summer sky. She’d asked him out once, only to play a terrible prank on him because what else had Murder Malcolm deserved? Funny, at that point he and Vijay had fallen out for the most part but it was Vijay who had saved him then.</p><p>He’d seen Shelby once after that when he’d come home from Harvard. She’d apologized saying teens are stupid creatures, and she was embarrassed in her part for what happened to him. Malcolm hadn’t believed her but accepted it anyhow because that’s what polite people did, even as he promised himself to keep an eye on her ever after. So why hadn’t he?</p><p>“You didn’t die. Good.” Shelby still wore goddess attitude like a cloak as she pulled a rickety task chair across the floor to just outside the reach of his blanket which ironically had unicorns on it. “You had me scared there for a moment, especially after I had to shoot you. Luckily I only grazed you. If only you hadn’t started fighting once you realized I slipped you something.” Her gaze flicked to his left chest. Just above Watkins’s stab scar was a fresh jagged line and a rusty waterfall of blood crusting up on his side. “You have no head for drugs. You almost stopped breathing on me. ”</p><p>He shook his head. “I’m already on about four benzos. You OD’ed me.” He knitted up his brow. “Why?”</p><p>“Don’t you remember?” Her darkly painted lips peeled into a cold smile.</p><p>Malcolm tried to move his arms, failed. “You came to my loft, said you wanted to talk… about the Stuart Foundation charity dance?”</p><p>“You have giant holes in your memory, don’t you? Roofies are a bitch.” She chuckled, kicking at something that crawled toward her Jimmy Choo’s. Every part of her was out of place in this basement. </p><p>With the lights on, Malcolm could see shackles set into the wall. Smears decorated the peeling paint, blood he was sure of it. What was this place? What in the world would bring an Upper East Sider like Shelby here? “What is going on?”</p><p>“I decided you’d be a bad date to the ball.” Shelby laughed the same self-amused laugh his father did when he knew damn well it wasn’t funny or the least bit appropriate.</p><p>Malcolm thought the ball part was right. His mother had wanted him to go, and he’d said yes, he would and he’d find a date. It seemed like such a small thing at the time. He hated these events but his mother had been through <i>so</i> much all he wanted was for her to smile. He’d only been cleared of all charges and released less than two week ago, and he had been in isolation in a low-risk prison for two weeks before that, waiting for Dani, JT and Edrisa to work their evidence to prove him innocent of Eddie’s murder along with proving what Endicott had done to frame him.</p><p>Ainsley was in psychiatric intensive care but it looked like she would be cleared on self-defense due to her fugue, Endicott’s attempt on Gil’s life, and the fact Malcolm had hidden his gun away and no one made one damn mention of it. He still didn’t know what Endicott had done to make his sister cry at his mere touch, and he was sure if he did know, he’d want to bring Endicott back just to kill him again. His mother had gotten through all that drama only to face the fact that yet another lover was a psycho killer even if he used others to commit his murders. </p><p>She hadn’t let it stop her.  No, Jessica Whitly held her head high, looked the reporters and anyone else daring to ask right in the eye and recounted how she had single handedly knocked Endicott out long enough for her to stop his henchman and rescue Gil Arroyo. No one was going to shame her. That said she hadn’t wanted to go to the charity dinner and dance alone. Shockingly, her first choice was still a bit too weak to go out dancing. It had taken Malcolm longer to piece that relationship together in his head than it did for him to recall Shelby Hayes’s duplicity in spite of the drugs. So much had fallen into place as to his mother’s jealousy about Jackie but that didn’t help him here. Malcolm had vague memories of wishing he could ask Dani or even Edrisa with him to the ball but they were up to their eyeballs in sorting out all of Endicott’s interference in the legal system, uncovering every sick pie he had a finger in. Shelby had seemed like a good option as a date a few hours ago.</p><p>“What is this place? I don’t understand. Why, Shelby? What did I ever do to you?” He jerked on his restraints but only managed to set fire to the wound along his rib cage. He gasped.</p><p>“You and your bitch sister killed Nicholas Endicott.”</p><p>Malcolm blinked. That was the last thing he expected to hear. “He was trying to kill my whole family but what does that have to do with you?”</p><p>She spread her arms wide. “What do you think this room is for, Malcolm?”</p><p>He glanced around, taking it all in again and something kicked in his fogged brain. “Human trafficking.”</p><p>Shelby grinned ferally. “Got it in one, Quantico. Oh right, you’re not FBI anymore, are you?”</p><p>“What…oh, you and Endicott. This is one of his businesses?” Malcolm squinted at her. “No you wouldn’t ever play second fiddle. He helped you get it started.”</p><p>“And paid for certain cops and judges to look the other way. Technically it’s all my brother’s as far as those paid individuals are concerned but I’m the brains behind it.” She sauntered over to the corner and took a roll of toilet paper off a shelf. She pulled off a few sheets and used them to pick up a bucket. </p><p>“Human trafficking? Why, Shelby? It’s a horrible thing,” he said, wondering if it wasn’t almost as terrible as murder. At least then the pain was over. </p><p>She threw the bucket down just an inch off his blanket and bounced the toilet paper off his head. “Do you have <i>any</i> idea how much money there is to be made?”</p><p>“Your family already has enough money.”</p><p>“There is no such thing.” She cocked her head to the side, studying him. “I don’t know how you do the job you do. It can’t be worth the pittance you’re paid.”</p><p>He scowled at her. “I’d rather that than trade in human misery.”</p><p>“Big talk from someone trussed up like a mummy. Hmmm, that gives me ideas.” Her expression chilled him. </p><p>“Have they tracked all this to you then? The police coming for you?” He wouldn’t know. With Gil barely out of the hospital, Malcolm wasn’t being called into work. Dani, JT and Edrisa kept him as apprised as they could but there were so many evil things Endicott had been taking cuts of, it would take months if not years, to root it all out, if they ever did.</p><p>“John thought so. My brother killed himself because of what you and your sister did. He couldn’t face prison.” She curled her lip. </p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“He was weak. I am not. Still John didn’t deserve to die. As for me, I will disappear but not until I’m done paying you and Ainsley back. I can’t get to her yet but don’t you worry, I will. If she goes to jail, she’ll die. If she’s freed, I’ll sell her. A beautiful blonde like her? I’ll make a small fortune.” Shelby reached down and grabbed his chin, forcing his head back. “As for you, Malcolm, I’m going to toy with you until I get bored or you break, whichever comes first, and then I’m going to sell you, too. Look at those big blue eyes. Oh yes, someone will pay a princely sum for you.”</p><p>“You can’t do this, Shelby.”</p><p>She snorted, shoving him back. “This <i>is</i> what I do, Malcolm. My brother told me about all the terrible things you used to do to him in school. They should have known better than to let Whitly’s bad seed in a school that fine.  I’ll be thinking of that when I plot out to do with you first, and before you get any ideas, that’s the only door. No one is going to hear you scream.”</p><p>“Like I told the last person to try and hold me in a basement, I’m a pretty good screamer.”</p><p>“Oh I’m hoping you are. I’m betting that’s the thing that’ll get me off before I finally tire of you.” She waggled her manicured nails at him and swept up the stairs. She left him in darkness, the sound of the door locking loud in his ears.</p><p>What he had done to John in school? What lies had John told, not that it mattered? He didn’t even know why she had given him a bucket and toilet paper since his hands were still behind his back. The roofies mixed with his own benzos and the white wine he’d given to Shelby when she visited – which no doubt was how she’d drugged him – told his mind to shut back down. Malcolm fought against it. He had to stay focused and figure a way out while he still could. Soon enough he’d be faced with withdrawal from his meds. He needed to battle to stay awake. In the end, he lost.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Kidnapped</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back to working on my Whumptober story. Each chapter will fulfil a prompt (the prompt will be the title of the chapter)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Two – Kidnapped</p>
<p>Gil broke every speed limit and the laws of good sense getting Malcolm’s loft. When Jessica called, the fear in her voice burned like a brand. He rolled JT and Dani to the scene even before surveying it for himself. He trusted Jess to know if something bad had happened to Malcolm or at least know if the apartment showed signs of a struggle.</p>
<p>He beat his team there, thanks to Jessica’s gift of a new high horse power muscle car. White faced, Jessica met him at the door. She grabbed his hand, fingers icy as she teetered on the edge of shock.</p>
<p>“The team will be here any minute,” he promised.</p>
<p>“Can you even do that? You’re not back to work yet.”</p>
<p>His belly twinged as she reminded him he had weeks yet before he’d be allowed back so he had a plan if this wasn’t a misunderstanding on Jessica’s part. “It’s Saturday. JT and Dani are off, and they’d do anything to help if Malcolm’s hurt.”</p>
<p>“Come look.” She dragged him to the living room portion of the home. A couch pillow had been pulled off the sofa and a coffee table lay upended in front of it. “Is that blood?” She pointed to edge of the table.</p>
<p>Gil squatted, his gut protesting. “Yes.” Not just blood but a few hairs too. Struggling back up, he took her hand again. “Did you touch anything?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “I called you after I saw this and couldn’t get a hold of him. I’ve been trying to get him to answer his phone since yesterday morning. Him ignoring me isn’t uncommon but he usually doesn’t let it go this long. With all that’s happened with you and Ainsley, he’s not been himself. I worried about what he might do so I came over.” She swallowed hard.</p>
<p>“He wouldn’t hurt himself, Jess,” Gil said.</p>
<p>Her pretty eyes clouded with pain. “He has in the past and you know it.”</p>
<p>He did. He hated that and wanted Jessica to not think on it but how could she not? “Sorry. I know. Come on. Let’s go out and sit on the stairs. I don’t want to risk us accidentally contaminating the scene. I have some calls to make.”</p>
<p>She offered no resistance. Gil called his superior, Captain Garcia. She promised to be there with a crime scene unit immediately. </p>
<p>Jessica tugged on his pants leg and he sat next to her. “I’m sorry. You don’t need this stress. You’re still recovering.”</p>
<p>Gil enveloped her in his arms, holding her tight.  “Don’t be sorry, Jess. It’s Malcolm and it’s <i>you</i>. I will always be here for you two.”</p>
<p>Tears shone in her eyes. They both knew he’d been within an angel’s wing of never being there again. Still he meant what he said. Nothing short of complete incapacitation or death would stop him from helping. He had wanted to rouse himself from his hospital bed to help Ainsley and Malcolm after Endicott. The best he could do was make calls then too. </p>
<p>“Gil, I can’t go through this again. I can’t…” </p>
<p>He had no words that could comfort her. He felt the same way. The stark terror he felt when Watkins had Malcolm returned, freezing him from the inside out. Dani arrived before JT. He could barely keep her from racing upstairs and even though he knew she wouldn’t contaminate anything procedure had to be followed. If someone did have Malcom Gil didn’t want them to skate on a technicality. Thankfully, JT, Garcia, and the crime scene unit, unsurprisingly including Edrisa even though there was no body – he knew if she heard the address for Malcolm’s loft, she’d be there – arrived soon after.</p>
<p>They ascended to the loft en masse.  JT and Dani let CSU work with the bloodied table as they helped dig around the couch. Edrisa, taking blood samples from the edge of the table after it had been photographed, pointed frantically.</p>
<p>“There’s a wine glass under the couch,” she said.</p>
<p>Tugging on a glove, Dani reached under the couch. JT held out a paper bag for it. </p>
<p>“Someone was here with him,” Jessica said, and Dani glanced up at her.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Malcolm isn’t a wine drinker. He prefers whiskey and bourbon when he drinks,” Jessica said, and Gil nodded.</p>
<p>“He only breaks out wine to entertain others,” he added. “Is there another wine glass anywhere?”</p>
<p>“Not over here,” Dani said.</p>
<p>Gil pulled on his own gloves and opened Malcolm’s cabinets. He spotted it immediately. “JT, bring me a bag.”</p>
<p>“What did you find?” Jessica asked before his team could.</p>
<p>“Someone put away this glass wet. It’s probably been wiped but we can try,” he said, catching Garcia’s sharp look. She knew he was clutching at straws. </p>
<p>“What do you think happened here, Gil?” Garcia asked.</p>
<p>“I think someone kidnapped Malcolm Bright,” he replied, adding <i>again</i> mentally. </p>
<p>“I agree. We’re going to treat this as a kidnapping. See if you can find his phone. Mrs. Whitly, let’s go outside and talk. Any ideas of who could have done this would be helpful. Gil, come with us please.”</p>
<p>Gil followed them, trying to ignore the stares of his team. He could feel their fear as if it were his own. Jessica brushed her hand over his but didn’t dare take it and hold on as she instinctively knew it wouldn’t be a good thing in front of his boss. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her but now was not the time. She didn’t know anything of course. Other than any of Martin’s victims’ families – which it seemed late in the game for that – or any of the many affected by the exposure of Endicott’s scheming, she knew no one person in particular who wanted to hurt her son. </p>
<p>“Endicott’s cronies,” Garcia mused. “That’s not really narrowing it down but  the timing makes it likely none the less.”</p>
<p>“Agreed. Let JT and Dani handle this please, Captain,” Gil said.</p>
<p>“I doubt I could stop them. All right but you have to sit this out, Gil and you know it.” She jabbed a finger at him.</p>
<p>“I know but, just hear me out, I can help narrow down the list of possible suspects. We both know there are dozens of potential names,” Gil said, and Jessica made a soft, terrified sound that tore his heart in two. “I’ll be sitting at a computer.”</p>
<p>Garcia scowled but gave a sharp nod of her head. “We could use the help with that but that is all you’re doing, Gil. Don’t push me on this.”</p>
<p>“I won’t.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All right then. You stay with Mrs. Whitly. She could use a little help,” she said before striding back into the loft.</p>
<p>“She knows,” Jessica whispered.</p>
<p>“Looks that way.”</p>
<p>“Gil, I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to help him.” Jessica took his hand.</p>
<p>“I can’t hurt myself working through a list of names. Malcolm needs us.”</p>
<p>Jessica’s lips trembled. “My baby is gone. Someone is hurting him, Gil.”</p>
<p>He pulled her to him, tucking his face against her head. “I know but we’ll get him back. I promise you that.”</p>
<p>They both knew he couldn’t but they clung to that promise anyhow. No one in the loft would stop until they had Malcolm back one way or the other. All Gil could do was pray they’d find him before it was too late.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Forced to Their Knees</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Three – Forced to Their Knees</p>
<p>Malcolm was willing to bet Shelby never dealt with her and her brother’s business personally. He couldn’t imagine how she and John even ended up in human trafficking. If she were more involved in the business, she would have realized the leather restraints from his loft weren’t adequate to keep a determined person like himself from getting free. He was used to getting in and out of his restraints. She had tied them in a way he couldn’t get his fingers engaged but she had put his hands in front of him. Malcolm had used his teeth to help wiggle the straps loose. Under the leather had been zip ties but he knew how to get out of those too.</p>
<p>His wrists bleeding and sore, Malcolm managed to free himself completely. The tricky part would be getting out of the basement. The door would be locked when he got to it, he was sure and, stripped to his underpants, he didn’t have much in the way of lock picks on him. On the other hand, FBI training at Quantico left him well equipped to mule kick his way through a locked door. Sure, his bare feet would hurt but he could do it, even if he stress fractured something. He’d been in pain before. If his shattered first metacarpal and profusely bleeding gut wound hadn’t stopped him from battering John Watkins into unconsciousness, a little metatarsal stress fracture wouldn’t stop him from running mostly naked down the street once he got out of wherever the hell he was.</p>
<p>Malcolm ascended the wooded steps slowly. They looked capable of giving him a mean splinter – and tetanus knowing his luck. He didn’t want to race up them and make a lot of noise. All he’d need at this point would be for Shelby to get advance notice of his escape attempt. He nearly made it to the top when a step creaked ominously. Malcolm paused and it slowly sank in; the noise was from behind him.</p>
<p>He started to whirl as Shelby ran up the steps. She pressed her .45 caliber pistol to his head. Where had she come from? A frisson of fear tickled up his spine as she grinned at him. </p>
<p>“Silly boy, did you think that was the only way in and out, like my men would march our merchandise down here via the front door.”</p>
<p>Malcolm cursed under his breath. Like his house, like the Taylors’, this had a back entrance. It might have been for bootlegging back in the day or installed just for her business. It didn’t matter. She probably had seen him get himself free. It made sense that they would have the place wired up. He hadn’t spotted the cameras but he hadn’t looked for them either. He was starting to feel the effects of withdrawal from his meds. His brain was foggy. He was likely to get a lot worse. His window for escape was dwindling.</p>
<p>He said nothing to Shelby, taking in her stance, her arrogance, and her obvious lack of experience at actually taking care of the prisoners. She held the gun too loosely and stood too close to him. She anticipated fear of the weapon would keep him docile. Malcolm dropped to one knee, and he lashed out, catching her arm, knocking it wide. </p>
<p>The gun went sailing into the basement as she cried out, startled. Malcolm shoved her hard. His preferred method of dealing with criminals might be non-violence but his life depended on him getting out of here. Shelby fell back, her hands flailing. She caught hold of his arm, her nails digging in.</p>
<p>Off balanced, Malcolm fell with her. They tumbled down the stairs, pain blossoming everywhere as backs, hips, heads, and shoulders collided with the wooden stairs first and the cement floor second. Malcolm’s head slammed into the floor so hard he swore it sounded like a coconut being cracked open. He <i>felt</i> cracked opened. His vision disappeared, giving away to a fourth of July finale’s worth of stars as traumatized neurons fired randomly.</p>
<p>Ignoring his pain and his temporary blindness, Malcolm struggled to his feet. He needed to find the other entrance. It stood to reason it was open. <i>The gun, get the gun first</i>, he thought frantically as his vision slowly juddered back into being. Somewhere to his left, Shelby made an agonized groan but from the sounds of heels on concrete, she had managed to regain her footing.</p>
<p>Malcolm ran toward a small light in the shadows. That had to be the passageway. He hadn’t seen that before. Suddenly a loud roar of the high caliber weapon deafened him, and then the sounds of a ricochet as the bullet bounced off the floor. Something burned along his thigh, and he stumbled. Malcolm glance down, seeing blood spill down his leg. The wound was across his thigh but shallow. The ricochet had caught him.</p>
<p>“On your knees, Malcolm,” she said, again closing the distance between them. She wedged the big bore pistol between his occipital bone and his cervical spine. If she fired again, he wouldn’t even have time to feel pain before he died. “Do you think I’m kidding? On your knees or die standing.”</p>
<p>“You don’t want to kill me,” he reminded her. “You want me to hurt first.”</p>
<p>“And you’re bleeding nicely. Besides, I want to sell you but if I have to kill you, I will. Get. On. Your. Knees.”</p>
<p>Malcolm didn’t think he stood a good chance of  turning the tables on her with a gun so close to his brain stem. He knelt, his thigh burning and bleeding faster.  “Can I have something to stop this bleeding?”</p>
<p>“Really? You think I’m in the mood to be kind to you?” Shelby made a derisive noise. “You threw me down the stairs, you little bastard. It hurt like hell.”</p>
<p>“I know. You took me with you,” he said. “And I’m sorry it came to that. I don’t want to hurt you, Shelby. I just want out of here.”</p>
<p>“And you think you can avoid hurting me to do that? You know too much, Malcolm. You’re never getting out of here.”</p>
<p>“Are you really prepared to kill me?” He dared a quick look over his shoulder. She bled from a wound in her forehead and it looked like she’d bitten her lip. The vicious look in her eye suggested that yes, maybe she was capable of murdering him where he knelt.</p>
<p>“You’d be shocked at what I’m prepared to do.” Shelby flicked her tongue over her swelling, cracked lip. “I think I’ll start by finding you the most abusive master I can. I might even be willing to sell you to him cheap.”</p>
<p>Malcolm’s gut knotted. His instincts told him that wasn’t an idle threat. “That would be a mistake.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sure you think so. Don’t worry, Malcolm. By the time I’m ready to sell you, you’ll be happy to go. In the meantime.” </p>
<p>Shelby brought her hand back and pistol whipped him before he could move. Malcolm’s consciousness fled before he even hit the floor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Buried Alive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Points to the title. That's a hint and could be triggery.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Four – Buried Alive</p><p>Malcolm woke up in a box, lid open but his panic was real regardless. His head ached miserably. His hands had been zip tied again. He brushed his fingers across his head, feeling gummy clumps of drying blood where he’d been pistol whipped. That was all he needed, a concussion to go with whatever else his withdrawal was likely to do to his cognitive functions. He spared a second to hate on himself for needing so much medication, as if his illnesses weren’t a real as high blood pressure or diabetes.</p><p>Finally, the cobwebs cleaned enough for him to realize how bright the room was and that it wasn’t a room at all. He was outside, shoved into a box and outside because that boded well for his survival. <i> No, remember, she doesn’t want you dead. She wants you to suffer.</i> That wasn’t a comfort. He sat up and a rough hand caught his shoulder, shoving him back but not before he saw a copse of trees and Shelby leaning on a dolly, presumably the one he’d been carted out on by her lacky. </p><p>She sauntered over and peered down at him. Bruises stood out on her face from their mutual tumble down the stairs. “I have a side business or two,” she said without preamble.</p><p>“Dare I ask what?” His hands shook hard, nerves and the beginnings of withdraw having their way with him.</p><p>“Oh, a little of this, a little of that, some porn, all voluntary before you get on your moral high horse.”</p><p>“I’m glad you think I have one. Most people don’t. My father insured that.”</p><p>“Your father had style from what I’ve heard.” </p><p>“I suppose that could be said of him. Does this box have something to do with your side business?” Malcolm dared to sit up again, keeping a wary eye on her man. Burly, tattooed, a ZZ Top styled beard covering his face, he looked straight out of central casting for a dude who screamed I’m a criminal. “I’m not sure I’d be happy making a smut picture.”</p><p>“I’m sure there’ll be time for that later but I was thinking of the other sideline, the torture porn.” The look Shelby gave him robbed him of breath.</p><p>He clenched his fists, scoping out his surroundings again. He was obviously no longer in the city but he wasn’t sure where he was. Did the Hayes have a country home? He might be in Westchester somewhere. He couldn’t see a home from his limited view, just the trees. He wasn’t sure where he could run to but it didn’t matter. He’d never get out of the box before her man slammed him back into it. His voice was his best tool right now so he’d better find it. “You would do that? Admittedly I never knew you very well back in school, Shelby, but I had always liked you.”</p><p>She laughed harshly. “You did, didn’t you? Or more likely your horny little teen self was hoping I’d take pity on you and let you get to third base. I still remember the day you tried.”</p><p>Malcolm wet his lips. “I didn’t try. You asked me out. I didn’t think you were going to humiliate me in front of everyone at the party. I thought you were nice.”</p><p>“You were thinking it though, hoping for it,” she said, and in truth he hadn’t even been thinking about third base. He’d been so unpracticed with girls when he was fifteen, he had been hoping mostly for a kiss, some small act of kindness. It had been a party at someone’s country home, and Shelby had lured him out to the woods with sweet promises. A bunch of older boys she knew helped her to tie him to a tree, stripped like he was now, down to his boxer briefs. Vijay had found him out there, sobbing to himself, and freed him an hour later. “You were such a little thing back then, chest like a bird. At least you put on a little muscle. That’ll make my clients happy when they see what happens next. It doesn’t make for good footage if the victim doesn’t fight well.”</p><p>“If you hurt me, wouldn’t that bring down the price? You still want to sell me,” he said, hating to remind her of it but that would take her awhile to arrange. That had to be better than anything she had planned for this moment.</p><p>“Oh, Malcolm, surely a profiler like you knows that not all torture leaves a mark.” Shelby put on her best sweet smile and hefted one end of the box’s lid. A tube led from the inside to the out, about as big around as his forearm.  “Matthias is going to help me put you in a shallow grave.”</p><p>Everything inside him turned to water. His mind emptied. All he could hear was the terrified sounds Sophie had made when he’d found her, the sounds of his nightmares. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a trench dug near a big tree and his panic skyrocketed.</p><p>A flash drew him out of it. Shelby smiled over top of her phone. “I’m going to make that expression my wallpaper.” She laughed. </p><p>“Shelby, please.”</p><p>“Save the begging for once we get the cameras rolling.” Shelby flicked her wrist toward someone who came into view with a small digital camera. He handed it to her. “Go ahead put him in.”</p><p>“No!” </p><p>Malcolm forced himself up, getting as far as his knees before Matthias punched him, knocking him back. He and the man who brought the camera tugged bandannas up over their mouths and their hat brims down low as if it would completely obscure their faces. <i>It would do enough</i>, he thought, struggling back up. </p><p>Hands bound and a concussion blooming, Malcolm couldn’t fight them off. They wrestled him back down into the box. Matthias’s meaty fists slammed into Malcolm a couple more times, and then they got the lid with its breathing tube put over him. Malcolm jammed his shoulder against it even as he heard the locks being thrown on his make-shift coffin. </p><p>He drummed his feet against the sides and lid the best he could. He wanted to howl in rage, shriek in fear but he wouldn’t give Shelby the satisfaction. Screw her and her movie. Her men moved him none too gently into the trench. Suddenly a pale, blueish light turned on. There was an LED disc in the lid of his coffin near the breathing tube. Already the air felt thin and his chest heaved fast and hard.</p><p><i>No, don’t panic. You have to stay calm.</i> He had plenty of air. He had a breathing tube. She didn’t want him dead yet. Malcolm clung to that. Something poked down his breathing tube, a small camera. She might actually have been serious about the torture porn. Someone somewhere might be getting off on his fear.</p><p>Disgust at the very idea calmed him in a perverse way. They wanted to feed on his terror. Was that what his father did when he put Sophie and who knew how many others into boxes? Yes, it probably was. Sociopaths did have emotions, after all. They just processed them differently, and they lacked empathy.  His father knew joy and rage. Joy when he’d been the one putting people in boxes, rage if he had any idea what Sophie had done to his boy.</p><p>Malcolm tried to break his zip ties but he couldn’t get the right arm placement or momentum to do it. What would he do if he could anyhow? He was locked in. He tried to think of his options. <i>Ignore the concussion. Ignore the withdrawal. Ignore your situation. Stay calm.</i> The little mantra worked to keep him calm but it did nothing to clear his mind. He couldn’t think.</p><p>He jumped and nearly slammed his head against the lid when an ominous sound echoed in the tight space. “No,” he whispered, placing the noise. They were throwing dirt over him. “Please, no.” He couldn’t help it. Fear of being buried alive was visceral. He tried to fight it. Failed when some dirt trickled down his breathing tube and sprinkled over his face.</p><p>Malcolm twitched hard and slammed his fists up into the lid. He kicked until he felt blood running along his heels.  The more dirt that hit the lid, the faster his panic rose.  Something might have broken in his hand but Malcolm pounded the lid until he felt light headed. Panic filled the coffin with carbon dioxide faster than it could escape via the tube. He had to calm down or else the worst would happen. It was his last thought before he lost consciousness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Rescue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Five – Rescue</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gil pushed back from his desk, holding his gut. He wanted more coffee. He wanted a clue where the closet thing he had to a son had been taken to and by whom. He wanted no one to know how much this had taken out of him.</p>
<p>“Gil?” Dani’s worried tone made Gil jump. She edged around his open office door. “What’s wrong besides the obvious? You look…”</p>
<p>He held up a hand, knowing exactly what he looked like. “It’s fine, Powell. I need a break. I have too many files still, and I haven’t been able to winnow them out. Did crime scene come up with anything?”</p>
<p>Dani sat on the couch and beckoned him over. He tried to walk over without showing how bad his gut hurt. He had pushed too hard but he didn’t want Garcia to send him home. Hell, at this point Dani and JT might just bundle him up and ship him off.  Easing down onto the couch proved a lot harder than walking. Dani put a hand on his arm. “You need to go home, Gil. You won’t do Bright any good if you collapse.”</p>
<p>He ran a hand over his hair. “I know. I just want to get through a few more files before I call it a day.”</p>
<p>“There was something in the wine glass under the couch.”</p>
<p>Gil perked up. “I’m listening.”</p>
<p>“High levels of GHB and Rohypnol, someone really wanted Malcolm to go down hard.” Fury glinted in her dark eyes, and Gil was sure his own mirrored it.</p>
<p>“Mixed with his own meds, he could have easily overdosed,” he growled.</p>
<p>Dani nodded. “We’ve checked every hospital and morgue in a fifty-mile radius.”</p>
<p>“Make it a hundred,” he said, knowing he was overstepping. Garcia was in charge. She’d been generous in letting him help. Besides, Dani and JT would have come to that same conclusion on their own.</p>
<p>“He’s not dead,” she said with conviction, giving his arm a squeeze. “Whoever this is took the extra steps to kidnap him.”</p>
<p>He nodded but Gil also knew that kidnappings went wrong all the time. That cocktail of drugs and alcohol could have depressed the kid’s nervous system, put him in a coma, stopped him breathing. Flashes of Bright in a trunk slowly suffocating shocked his inner eye. It flipped Gil from Bright in a trunk to <i>him</i> in a trunk. Suddenly he was back there. Pain in his abdomen doubled him over. He felt the blood gushing between his fingers, the slam of his new car, the heavily built Polara, slamming into the sedan he’d been tossed into like so much trash. The shock of seeing Jessica’s arms pulling him free of what would have been his tomb felt as fresh as if it were happening now.</p>
<p>“Gil!” Dani’s arms went around his shoulders, startling Gil out of it. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>His teeth chattered. He couldn’t answer her. Dani reached for his desk phone but he waved her off. “Okay…I’m okay,” he grated out unconvincingly. “Just a flashback to being thrown in a trunk.”</p>
<p>Dani settled back on the couch, putting a hand on his arm again as if afraid he’d be gone if she didn’t maintain contact. “I’m sorry. He’s….”</p>
<p>She let it trail off because they both knew she couldn’t promise that Bright wasn’t in a trunk somewhere or that he was still alive.</p>
<p>“You need to go home, Gil. This is too much for you. JT and I have it. You need to rest. Go home and take care of Jessica. She needs you, especially with Ainsley still in the psychiatric hospital.”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “I can do this, Dani. We’re lucky Jess isn’t here trying to help me. Someone got into Malcolm’s loft. He wouldn’t have opened that door to just anyone.”</p>
<p>“But who would he do that for?”</p>
<p>Gil shrugged. “Most of his in-town friends are here in this building, and no one on the team would do that to him.” He thinned his lips, thinking that Endicott had bought off several cops and crime scene techs but not Powell or Tarmel. Edrisa would never hurt Malcolm, not for love or money.  Would Malcolm have opened his door for another detective?</p>
<p>“You’re thinking about dirty cops,” she all but read his mind.</p>
<p>“Yes, but other than you and JT, he’s not made friends with them that I’m aware of, certainly not the type to sit down to wine with.”</p>
<p>“Me either. Wine…that seems a little feminine, doesn’t it? I know that’s a reach. Guys drink wine too, but you said Bright prefers whiskey. I could see him offering a male visitor that over wine unless the guy asked for it.”</p>
<p>“Did Edrisa’s team come up with anything on the other glass, the one from the cabinet?” He clutched at straws.</p>
<p>“She’s still processing it.” Dani gestured to the files on his desk. “Are there any names you might recognize as people Bright would know?”</p>
<p>Gil let his breath out slowly. “Not yet.”</p>
<p>“Maybe having Mrs. Whitly come in isn’t the worst idea, Gil. She moves in Endicott’s circles. There might be someone she’d recognize that you wouldn’t.”</p>
<p>Gil  scrubbed a hand over his chin, his beard prickling his skin. “If I can’t winnow that pile down soon, I might give that a try.” He’d have to run it past Garcia. Jessica wouldn’t be seeing any details of the cases they were building against Endicott’s associates, just names. Garcia herself could read them out loud to Jessica if she thought it necessary to keep the details they had safe.</p>
<p>His desk phone rang, startling them both. Gil forced himself up, trying not to let it show he was in pain. He wasn’t fooling Powell.  He answered the phone, knitting up his brow when he heard a female voice on the other end. He eased himself into his seat as she asked, “Lieutenant Arroyo?”</p>
<p>“This is he.” He knew the voice but couldn’t place it.</p>
<p>“It’s Colette Swanson,” she said, her voice tight as if she were nervous. It started an ice ball forming in his belly. </p>
<p>“What can I do for you, Special Agent Swanson,” he said for Dani’s benefit. She went as grey as he felt. Swanson wouldn’t be reaching out for fun. She hadn’t spoken to them since she and her team went away, tails between their legs after misjudging Watkins so badly. He was still grateful they helped to try and track Bright down that time, even if their efforts hadn’t amounted to much.</p>
<p>“Do you know where Malcolm Bright is?”</p>
<p>He gripped the phone tightly. “Why?”</p>
<p>“That’s isn’t an answer.”</p>
<p>“Malcolm Bright was kidnapped from his loft last night,” he said. “Does that have anything to do with your call?”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid so. We have a team looking into some violent pornography being sold online, some of which has been featuring kidnapped or runaway kids, which brought it to our attention. You might want to get your cyber-crimes in on this.”</p>
<p>“I’ll conference them in. Give me a moment.” He covered the mouthpiece. “Get JT on the line, you too. I’m bringing in cyber-crimes.” Gil uncovered the phone and pushed a few buttons. “Eastlack, it’s Arroyo.  I have Special Agent Swanson of the FBI on the phone with us.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t know you were back, Arroyo,” Eastlack said.</p>
<p>“Technically I’m not but our consultant, Bright was taken last night,” He said. “Special Agent Swanson, I have Detective Eastlack of cyber-crimes on along with my team. I’m sure you remember JT Tarmel and Dani Powell.”</p>
<p>“Of course. As I was telling Lieutenant Arroyo, we had been watching a group who is trafficking young people and putting them in violent pornography or just plain torture sessions for the clients that go in for that.” Swanson paused. “What did he mean, back? If you’re not who I should be talking…”</p>
<p>“Talk to Eastlack, Special Agent Swanson. I’m out on sick leave but I’m helping Tarmel and Powell on Bright’s case.”</p>
<p>“All right. We found some that looked like a video of Bright being aired last night,” she said.</p>
<p>Gil nearly dropped the phone. He heard JT swearing into his. “What?”</p>
<p>“I can send the video; we downloaded it.”</p>
<p>“Colette, what are you saying?” Dani broke in.</p>
<p>“I’m saying I was hoping this was a case of mistaken identity even though…” She trailed off, make Gil’s gut churn. Colette Swanson disliked Bright intensely so if this had upset her, how bad was it? She knew Bright well, wouldn’t have mistaken him for someone else. “It’s a brutal video, and whoever is selling these recordings are smart. They bounce them through proxy servers all around the world. We haven’t been able to track them back but you might be able to help.”</p>
<p>“How?” Eastlack asked. “My team here on cyber-crimes is good but the FBI has resources we don’t.”</p>
<p>“I was thinking more in location identification. There is a brief moment where you can see some of the land. You might have the ability to figure out where they are. We haven’t been able to tell where these people are being held. I’ll send the video, and you can call me back after you view it,” Swanson said. “It isn’t going to be easy for you to see, and whatever you’re doing to rescue Bright this time, you’re going to want to step up the pace. He’s in immediate danger.”</p>
<p>“We knew that much,” Gil growled and then checked his temper. He’d get nowhere antagonizing Swanson. “And thank you for calling me on this, Special Agent Swanson.” </p>
<p>“I know he’s found a home with your team, Lieutenant Arroyo. And regardless of my own relationship with him, no one deserves what’s happening to him.”</p>
<p>Gil heard Dani’s soft exclamation of fear. It echoed around with his own in his head. “Send that video please.”</p>
<p>Swanson promised to do so, and Eastlack invited them all to his war room so they could watch it. Gil knew he shouldn’t go but when he grabbed Captain Garcia so she could be brought up to speed, she didn’t even attempt to ban him from the room. JT and Dani sat like bookends on either side of him, and the moment the video started, Gil was glad to have them there. </p>
<p>It opened with two men, their faces half obscured by hats and glasses, beating Bright down into a box while someone with a vaguely Canadian accent narrated some script Gil couldn’t focus on. He strained to decipher every bit of evidence of the surrounding landscape but there wasn’t much to be seen. Still, this is what Swanson wanted him to see. His heart couldn’t handle this: Bright in a box. The poor kid would have been terrified. Dani covered her mouth, stifling a soft moan of dismay when they sealed the lid on him.</p>
<p>“Oh, hell no,” JT growled as they started shoveling dirt onto the box.</p>
<p>Gil couldn’t breathe. The camera angle cut away from the outside of the box to the inside. The tiny camera gave a somewhat fish-eyed appearance to Bright’s coffin. His screams and cries as he pounded on the box were met with laughter and off colored commentary by the narrator. It was a relief when Bright passed out and even that was delayed until Gil realized that Bright’s chest was moving.</p>
<p>“Damn,” JT hissed. “They buried him alive.”</p>
<p>“Gil, how are we ever going to find him?” Dani asked.</p>
<p>He shook his head. “I don’t know Dani! I have no idea.” He gasped for breath like a drowning man breaking the surface of the water. “I can’t tell Jessica this. I can’t.”</p>
<p>“She needs to know he’s still alive.” Dani scrubbed a shaking hand over her lips. “But not this, she doesn’t need to live with this in her head.”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell her the FBI has a lead on him but I can’t tell her the bastards have buried him alive and sold the video to whoever. I wonder if they know who bought it.” Gil turned to Eastlack. “Run it again, just the surface part. That’s where any clues are going to come from.”</p>
<p>“We might be able to run it through some software to see if anything about the landscape pops. I’m sure all the metadata has been scrubbed from the video. The FBI would have these guys by now otherwise,” Eastlack said.</p>
<p>“They’re not in the city anymore,” JT said. “I mean it could be a park but that would be too public even in the huge parks.</p>
<p>“They could be across the border into Pennsylvania or New Jersey,” Dani added. “Or up into Westchester or Dutchess counties where there are plenty of private wooded areas. He needs us to rescue him. How long can he last in conditions like that?”</p>
<p>“He’s tough. He’ll last,” Gil said, not believing it. Malcolm’s body might last but his mind would not. Who could blame him? He forced himself to watch the video again but when it came to making the call back to Swanson, Garcia took over. Gil could only be grateful he hadn’t been sent home. There was no way he was sitting on the sidelines, not when his boy needed to be saved.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. No More</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Six – No More</p>
<p>Malcolm’s eyes fluttered open. He started gasping for air in a blind panic before realizing he could, in fact, breathe. He wasn’t in the box anymore. He’d been returned to the basement. He tried to get to his knees but his body wouldn’t move. He was done in. Light from a dim, dusty overhead bulb barely sliced into the shadows of his subterranean prison. Malcolm raised his hands, still zip tied, bruised, and swollen. The plastic ties were too tight, leaving his hands congested and painful beyond belief. It might have been what woke him up. The restraints around his ankles were merely his cuffs from his bed repurposed again. He’d gotten through zip ties before, and he could do it again hopefully. However, the sheer tightness of them discouraged him.</p>
<p>Malcolm braced his feet, trying to  get some leverage to see if he could get to his knees at the very least. A deep ache in his feet suggested he might have broken some toes  kicking the coffin lid or even stress fractured his calcaneus. He had to be more careful. If he did somehow manage to get out of this, he needed to be able to run.</p>
<p>Finally, he rolled to his knees. In one corner of his basement confines stood a bucket that was no doubt his makeshift toilet. Oddly enough he felt no real urge to go. The smell of him suggested his bladder had let go at some point when he was underground. The dryness in his mouth told him it had been a long time – dangerously so – since he’d been given something to drink. He’d be in real danger soon if someone didn’t help him to some water.</p>
<p>He took stock of the room once more, just in case he’d been put somewhere new. It looked the same as before. There was the staircase and he was sure the passageway would be block off by now. He had no idea what would be down there waiting for him. For that matter, the door at the top of the staircase could be boobytrapped. He wouldn’t put it past Shelby.</p>
<p>Malcolm attempted to stagger to his feet but failed. The room spun. His withdrawal was worsening. Malcolm didn’t know how long he could possibly hang on. He could die in this basement. Well, it wasn’t the first basement he nearly died in. If he had anything to say about it, it would be the last basement he nearly died in – hopefully in the him escaping this way. </p>
<p>The door swung open and he fought down a groan of despair.  Shelby sauntered down the steps followed by a woman in a leopard print zentai carrying a large bag. Neither woman said anything but they didn’t need to. No one showed up in a zentai to a basement where human trafficking took place and then good things happened. Whatever came next wasn’t going to be good, especially seeing a camera in Shelby’s hand.</p>
<p>“Good, you’re awake. That will save some time,” Shelby said with a brilliant smile. She set the camera on a tripod.  “Are you still with me mentally, Malcolm?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t break if that’s what you were hoping for,” he rasped, his voice a bare whisper from his dry throat. </p>
<p>“Oh, I was hoping you were going to be okay. If you broke so early, it would be boring.” Shelby’s smile could probably give even his father pause. Some might say she was deranged but he knew it wasn’t that. She wasn’t insane, just evil. She enjoyed what was happening here beyond any mere business transection elements it might possess. “I sold the video of you in your box. It was a very popular download this morning. I can’t wait to see how much it earned by this evening. It’s so popular, we’re going to make another.”</p>
<p>He shook his head, knowing there probably wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it. The idea that someone had bought a video of him shrieking in terror after being buried alive twisted his stomach. He gagged, a thin film of bile coming up to coat the inside of his mouth. </p>
<p>“What’s the matter, Malcolm? Nothing to say.” She sashayed over to him, grabbing his chin. “I thought you were supposed to have a silver tongue.”</p>
<p>“Thirsty,” he managed, trying hard to remain calm, to not feed into her desire to see him beg for her mercy. She didn’t have any. He could see that much.</p>
<p>“Isn’t that too bad?” She slapped his cheek lazily. “I’m going to turn you over to Mistress Jezebel. She’s one of my most popular dominatrixes. I already know what this will earn us just for her presence alone.” Shelby gestured to the woman in the leopard zentai. “Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a sexual session. Like I said, torture porn sells well and the best part is, it doesn’t even necessarily need the porn part. I’m saving that. Of course, the rumors in our set say you’re still a virgin. I mean who would want a serial killer’s kid, right?” Shelby laughed, grabbing for him again.</p>
<p>Malcolm turned his head, her hand skimming past him. He whipped around and bit her hand hard. Shelby screamed, tearing away. He forced himself up and ran for it. He knew he wouldn’t get far and it would probably make whatever happened next worse but he couldn’t pass up a bid for freedom or at least to make her hurt. Jezebel swung the bag she had with her, and it slammed into him like it was filled with boulders. Malcolm off balanced, unable to catch himself. He went down hard on his hip and elbow. </p>
<p><i>Nothing broken, please, nothing broken!</i> he thought frantically even though his arm felt smashed.</p>
<p>“You little bastard.” Shelby’s narrow, pointed shoe found the back of his thigh, biting into him like it had teeth. “I’m bleeding.”</p>
<p>“Good,” he grumbled. He knew he couldn’t talk her into letting him go. He probably shouldn’t antagonize her but he couldn’t stop himself. </p>
<p>“I’m almost sorry I vetoed Mistress Jezebel’s pegging you raw,” Shelby spat, viciously kicking him again.</p>
<p>“I can add it to the repertoire,” she replied, her voice distorted by a modulator in her zentai’s hood.</p>
<p>“Save it for next time. This one has already been marketed as pure torture. You’d be surprised how so people find actual porn tawdry but torture….” Shelby shrugged. “But next time, bring that electrified cock ring.”</p>
<p>“This is a big evolution for you, isn’t it, Shelby? Or have you always had an interest in sadism? I must have missed it. Though I suppose I knew John better than you. I can easily see your brother being a sadist. He was to me. I’ll grant the little prank you pulled on me was pretty cruel in its own right.”</p>
<p>“As if you didn’t deserve every second of whatever my brother did to you.” Shelby leered at him but kept a respectful distance between them. She wasn’t going to let him bite her again. “You’re the bad seed from a monster.”</p>
<p>“Me?” He smirked up at her, knowing it would cost him dearly. If he died here, he wasn’t about to do it crawling to her. “Maybe so but what does that make you and John, Shelby? Even my father tended to grant his victims a quick death, often a painless one since they were unconscious.” That might be stretching things. Malcolm knew it was likely his father waited for the ketamine to wear off before he started operating on his victims. He certainly had with Sophie but Shelby couldn’t know that.</p>
<p>“I’m just a business woman. I do whatever earns me money, and this is will do that.” She stepped back and let Jezebel get close to him.</p>
<p>Malcolm saw the taser moments before Jezebel pressed it against his chest. He fell back against the cold cement. By the time the twitching stopped, Jezebel has his arms above his head, caged in a leather arm binder. At least she had cut off the zip ties but now the blood flooded the starved tissues, sending blinding pain up his limbs. He bit back the groan. He knew he couldn’t possibly censor all the involuntary expressions of pain he was about to suffer but he’d deny Shelby that one.</p>
<p>Shelby helped  Jezebel drag him to the wall shackles, getting kicked for her trouble. They tasered him again, and Shelby buried her heels in him a couple times for good measure. By the end of it, he was on his knees, facing the  rank, mildewed wall. Shelby had retreated, no doubt to man the digital camera as Jezebel kicked his legs apart displaying him the way she wanted him to be.</p>
<p>“His throat is dry. He’s not going to scream pretty this way,” Jezebel said.</p>
<p>“You brought him water. Go ahead and give him some. If he tries to bite you, feel free to smash his face into the wall,” Shelby replied.</p>
<p>“Gladly.”</p>
<p>Malcolm had no intentions of biting the hand that gave him water. He suspected it might have some Rohypnol or GHB in it when he got it but that might not be the worst thing at this moment. Being a little high would probably counter the pain he knew he wasn’t going to be able to avoid, not with his arms lashed together in the leather bag that was now anchored to the wall. Also, it might off set the withdrawal fogging his mind. Soon enough his body could fail him as it screamed for his medication with no chance of getting any. </p>
<p>Jezebel brought him a water bottle, or more specifically a baby bottle complete with nipple. Malcolm almost refused to drink. He knew Shelby would be recording this attempt to infantilize him.  If he survived, he would have to live with the knowledge that these demeaning videos were out there in the world. Even if they managed to track down some of her clientele, they’d never find it all. He wondered if someone in the FBI  was seeing this. He knew they tracked human trafficking and child pornography. Would these rape fantasies and torture porn videos be tracked? Probably since there was a lot of crossover in those who made them, as Shelby proved. It had never been part of his job with the Bureau so he didn’t quite know all the details. Maybe he’d be found this way or at least they’d have an idea what had happened to him if he – or his corpse – wasn’t recovered.</p>
<p>Malcolm drank greedily. Let Shelby record away he decided. He needed to keep his body as healthy as he could under the circumstances. He hadn’t given up home of escape.</p>
<p>Jezebel unspooled a vicious looking whip, leather that widened out at the end into a wide diamond-pointed segment. “Normally I’d work up to this whip but I’ve been told you’ve been a very bad boy who is need of correction,” she said, and Malcolm’s mind whirled those words around, wondering if her voice modulated speech would be voice overed by someone more seductive or if the people into this were turned on by the electronic modulator. Why he was dissecting the psychology of someone downloading torture porn at a time like this he didn’t know? He couldn’t turn off that part of his brain. </p>
<p>She dangled the whip in front of his face. “Meet the Devil’s Tongue, over thirty inches of braided leather. Oh, the sound it makes.” Her purr didn’t have quite the desired effect with the modulator. </p>
<p>If Shelby only knew, Malcolm didn’t mind a little submission but on his own terms. Not like this. Fear sweat popped out all over him, the funk of it clogging his nostrils. He barely had time to brace himself, hearing the whirl of the leather snaking toward him. When it kissed his skin, the deep powerful pop echoed in the basement. Malcolm clamped his jaw tight, refusing to  cry out. Hell, Shelby’s audience might even enjoy his defiance. They’d know that eventually he’d have to give in.</p>
<p>By the third or fourth blow, Malcolm wanted to submit. Blood trickled down his back from his tormented shoulders. His joints ached from him jerking and pulling on them, both from trying to dodge the whip he had no prayer of avoiding and from his struggles to dislodge himself from the d-ring in the wall. </p>
<p>“What a stubborn man you are,” Shelby said as Jezebel took a break. “What do you hope to prove by any of this, Malcolm?”</p>
<p>He assumed that the camera was no longer running. She wouldn’t dare leave the evidence of her real voice to be found. Malcolm glared at her, wiping a bit of drool onto his shoulder. “I am Murder Malcolm, Whitly’s bad seed, the psycho in training and whatever else your brother cared to mock me with back in the day. He knew I was a psychopath. Maybe you’re realizing that now.” </p>
<p>It hurt almost as much to say that as the whip had done against his skin. Even though he knew none of it was true, it ached deep inside him to play on those words so hatefully spewed at him in his adolescence. </p>
<p>“I honestly don’t give a damn what you are, Whitly. I just want to hear you scream,” Shelby replied.</p>
<p>He didn’t taunt her back because he knew she held all the cards. He was in more pain now than he’d ever been and that included when he staggered through his mother’s home with a broken hand, a concussion, withdrawal pain fueled hallucinations and a bleeding gut wound. Jezebel sashayed back into view and he bet the camera’s were rolling again as he looked up into her face. All that were visible were her blue eyes and a bit of pale skin. Her zentai covered everything else. He could see her lips curling into a smile behind the fabric.</p>
<p>“Shall we play, Malcolm?” </p>
<p>This time she brought out a long, flexible cane. It glowed in the dim light of the basement and at the tip was a rose as if somehow that made it less daunting. Of course, to some, this cane would be pretty especially when it slammed into skin.  He started panting in spite of himself. <i> God it was going to hurt so much</i>. He couldn’t even brace himself for the first blow nor stop the grunt exploding past his lips.</p>
<p>Jezebel gave him no time to recover. She worked him masterfully with the cane across his shoulders, his buttocks, and the backs of his thighs until he was gasping and moaning every time it flailed his flesh. Tears built up, trickling past his  eyelids even as Malcolm fought to stop them. She was going to break bone or at the very least a rotator cuff tendon. If she did that and his arms became useless, he’d never have a chance of escape.</p>
<p>“What are you doing, son?”</p>
<p>Startled by his father’s voice, Malcolm forced himself to focus. His father held the glowing cane, smiling at him. Malcolm shook his head.</p>
<p>“You’re not here,” he said.</p>
<p>“Your mind seems to think I am. What a pickle you’re in.” His father slammed the cane down across Malcolm’s thighs causing an explosion of pain.</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t….hurt me.”</p>
<p>“True. I always do get you out of the foolish predicaments you find yourself in, don’t I boy?” His father smiled that smug smile of his. “You better think of something fast, Malcolm, or you’re going to die in this basement.”</p>
<p>His father – or more appropriately his hallucinating brain in the midst of withdrawal – was right. He needed to end this before he was permanently injured. They wanted him to submit and give their audience a good show. He was ready. It would take no acting on his part.</p>
<p>“No more,” he begged even though he knew it was exactly what Shelby wanted. “Please, stop.”</p>
<p>“Nothing out of you,” Jezebel said, hitting him with the cane so hard, Malcolm rocked forward.</p>
<p>His forehead slapped into the wall and his vision dimmed out. Malcolm didn’t quite pass out but he became dead weight, dangling from his arms. A couple more blows hit him but he barely felt them semi-conscious as he was.</p>
<p>Vaguely aware of his arms being freed, Malcolm was dragged back to his dirty blanket on the floor and left there without another word. Even Shelby hadn’t bothered to taunt him. Maybe this had affected her and it wouldn’t happen again. Maybe she was too aroused to trust it not to show in her voice. He was in even deeper trouble if that was the case. Hearing the lock being thrown on the basement door, he wanted to try and free himself but instead he succumbed to his body’s demands for the peace of unconsciousness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>While Jezebel might bill herself as a dominatrix, the actions here are not really those of a dominatrix. I didn't tag this BDSM as this is not a consensual relationship. It fits under the tag of torture much better.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Seven – Support</p>
<p>Gil hadn’t slept in what felt like days. Had he even fed his cats? He couldn’t remember. Captain Garcia had suggested he go home. Soon, he knew, it would be an order. How could he go home and do nothing? Malcolm had been gone for forty-eight hours now. </p>
<p>The only clues they had to date was they finally got the results back on the washed wine glass. All it offered up was a smudged fingerprint too degraded to give a viable match that would be allowed in the court of law and some DNA, also too degraded to say much other than it was female. At least that could probably help him with the stack of files on his desk.</p>
<p>Gil resisted the urge to toss them all out the window. The tantrum wouldn’t help matters. It would only take away precious time. Garcia had okayed him taking names to Jessica, which he would tonight. He could barely hold her together. Thank God, she was strong enough to not need him to do much of that. She would bear up on her own but he didn’t know if she could take another hit. </p>
<p>“Gil.”</p>
<p>The sound of Jessica’s voice shocked him. For a moment, he thought he was tired enough to be hallucinating but there she stood, red-eyed and almost disheveled. She had a large tinfoil container in her hands.</p>
<p>“Jess?” He knit up his brow. “What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>She hefted the container. “You said everyone was working so hard there was no time to eat. I know none of us feel like eating but…” Her lips trembled for a moment but she reined in her emotions. “I brought breakfast….brunch, whatever. Burritos. Jillian swears by this place. I thought the team might want something. I want to support them.”</p>
<p>Gil nodded, slowly getting to his feet. He grabbed all the files, clutching them to his chest as he walked over to her. “You didn’t have to do that but we appreciate it. Follow me. Need help with that?”</p>
<p>“I’ve got it. You’re pushing too hard, Gil. You’re so pale I can see through you.” </p>
<p>“I can’t stop now, Jess. You know I can’t.”</p>
<p>She nodded, saying nothing. Gil led her to the war room his team was sharing with Eastlack’s. The conversation died as they walked in. JT popped up and took the container from Jessica and set it on the table.</p>
<p>“Brunch,” she said. “To thank you for all the work you’re doing to find my son.”</p>
<p>“We’re not going to stop,” Dani assured her. “And thank you.”</p>
<p>“Thank you very much,” JT added, tearing the tinfoil cover off. He grabbed one without reading the label on it. </p>
<p>Once his team and Eastlack’s had helped themselves, Gil snared one that said egg, jalapeno, and cheese. He didn’t want food but if he passed out from hunger what good would he be to Malcolm then?</p>
<p>“There is something you’re not telling me,” she said, easing herself into one of the battered chairs at the table. “And I know, you can’t tell me about an active case but I’m Malcolm’s <i>mother</i>.”</p>
<p>“Jess.” He sat next to her, his burrito still wrapped, and put his hand over hers. “Just know that he is still alive.”</p>
<p>“Then what aren’t you telling me?” She tossed her hair back, squaring her jaw. “Whoever has him is hurting him, aren’t they? How do you know?”</p>
<p>“Yes, they are,” Dani said, ignoring Gil as he widened his eyes at her. Maybe Dani had a point. Jessica deserved to know but he couldn’t be the one to tell her. If Dani felt the need to talk it out, Gil wasn’t going to stop her. “You don’t want to know more than that, Mrs. Whitly. I would do anything to not know what I do. The FBI is assisting us now as is Detective Eastlack and his team. Everything we’ve got is being used to get Malcolm back. He’s alive. He’s hurt but he’s alive.”</p>
<p>Jessica pushed her hair back from her face and steeled her jaw. “What can I do to help?” </p>
<p>“You already have.” JT gestured to the food. “We needed this.”</p>
<p>“And you can help me with these.” Gil put his hand on the stack of files he’d brought. “These are names of people who were connected to Endicott.”</p>
<p>She shivered. “You’ve said that before. How do you know it’s related to that monster?”</p>
<p>“We don’t but the timing is suggestive.” He couldn’t tell Jessica that if they were wrong about that, then they didn’t even have square one. They’d be in the negative numbers floundering around while Malcolm slowly died. “Eastlack and his men are working on the computer side of things. You can help me with the names. You know some of these people I’m sure.”</p>
<p>She nodded. “All right. Let’s hear them.”</p>
<p>Gil unwrapped his breakfast and took a bite.  He swallowed it and started with the top file. “Matt Scimone?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. </p>
<p>He went through the list a little faster knowing she’d jump in when she could offer something. “Miranda Meyers,  Zachary Lind, Julia Briggs.”</p>
<p>“Really? Julia was involved with Nicholas? I hope she rots. She’s been nothing but cruel since Martin went away,” Jessica sniffed. “Has ruined multiple attempts for me doing charity work but I can’t see her kidnapping Malcolm or being smart enough to pull it off.”</p>
<p>“Joy Virts? Denise Broder? Jack Dennard?”</p>
<p>“Another one who can rot in jail. He tried to pull me into a supply closet at the St. Jude’s event last year, got his hand down my dress before I could stop him.” Jessica shivered.</p>
<p>Gil didn’t have to guess why she hadn’t reported it. He’d add that to the list of reasons for one of the detectives to pull Jack apart. “Would he have hurt Malcolm because you rejected him?”</p>
<p>“He’d have to kidnap half of the one percenters in the city if that sort of thing motivated him,” she replied.</p>
<p>Sighing, he started the list again. “Diane Shaw?  Shane McAllister? John Hayes.”</p>
<p>“Wait, John Hayes? Malcolm knows him.”</p>
<p>“He does?” Dani nearly dropped her burrito, leaning hard on the table so she could look Jessica in the face.</p>
<p>Jessica nodded. “John and Malcolm were in the same class. He made that boarding school a nightmare for my son. Malcolm never said a word when it was happening unless he’d been beaten so badly the school was forced to report it. Twice it was John Hayes behind it.”</p>
<p>Gil flipped through the file and swore violently. “Hayes committed suicide last week. It can’t be him.”</p>
<p>“Damn!” JT slammed a hand against the table.</p>
<p>“He had a sister, Shelby,” Jessica said. “She was a piece of work too. She and her friends tied Malcolm up in the woods. Remember that, Gil?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I do. After that, he nearly stopped speaking again, didn’t he? She lured him out there pretending to be his date at a party.”</p>
<p>“That’s her. He was crushed.”</p>
<p>“But would he open his door to her now, after something like that?” Dani made a face.</p>
<p>“She apologized, said it was just a prank gone wrong.” Jessica shrugged. “He’s seen her other times at various events in the years after that.” </p>
<p>“So maybe he would have opened the door?” Dani said before turning to Gil. “Why would she want to hurt Malcolm? What was her brother going to be indicted for?”</p>
<p>Gil glanced at Jess but no one said anything about him sharing that detail with her. He opened the file and dug through. He gritted his teeth. “This makes sense,” he grated out.</p>
<p>“What does it say?” JT took the file from him.</p>
<p>“Human trafficking and non-consensual pornography,” Gil said, reaching a hand to Jess as color drained from her face.</p>
<p>“That is what the FBI has been tracking,” Eastlack said.</p>
<p>“Has she sold my son? God, Gil what if he’s gone? If he’s out of the country, we’ll never get him back!” Jessica’s voice went shrill. </p>
<p>He pushed back from the table and pulled her upright. Half leading, half carrying her out of the room, Gil walked her out into the hall. He embraced her hard, whispering in her ear. “He’s still here, Jess. We know that much.” It was a half-truth. They thought Bright wasn’t that far away given the time from when he’d been taken until the first video of him being buried alive aired.</p>
<p>“Can you get him back?” She shivered so hard he didn’t know how she kept her feet.</p>
<p>“I will do everything in my power, and you just gave us the biggest possible lead we’ve had, Jess. John and Shelby Hayes are good suspects, well, Shelby avenging her brother at any rate. The FBI came across our other lead as to what is happening to Malcolm while they were tracking human traffickers. Eastlack is probably already back on the phone with them to tell them this lead.  Dani and JT aren’t going to wait for me to tell them to start looking into any land the Hayeses have.”</p>
<p>“They have property up near the Finger Lakes and in Vermont. I know that for a fact.”</p>
<p>“Good, that helps. We know the property has woods with it. Don’t ask how we know, just trust me.”</p>
<p>“Of course I trust you.”</p>
<p>“Gil.” Dani poked her head out of the room. “Swanson called back. They have another video and she says they’re going to send us a team to help support us in our search.”</p>
<p>Gil nodded and Dani disappeared back inside. “I have to go, Jess.”</p>
<p>“I’m coming with you.”</p>
<p>“No, you’re not.”</p>
<p>“Gil…”</p>
<p>“No!” he broke in, and she widened her eyes at the violence of his tone. “Jess, please, if you must, go to my office and wait. You don’t want to see whatever this is.”</p>
<p>“He’s my baby, Gil.”</p>
<p>He shook his head and dashed away the tears forming in the corners of his eyes.  “I don’t want to see this video. I will not let you have this in your head. It will leave wounds and it <i>is</i> a police matter, Jess. I can’t have you in there even if I wanted to. You’ve helped me, and if this turns out not to be Shelby Hayes, then you can help me with more names. Just know you’ve done more for Malcolm already than we’ve managed in over a day.”</p>
<p>She bobbed her head. “Okay, I’ll wait in your office.”</p>
<p>He braced himself for what he was about to see. Dani sat on the edge of the table, her leg jumping. Gil forced himself to watch the video in spite of Eastlack trying to warn him off. His team wasn’t as emotionally invested and Eastlack argued they could handle it. Gil couldn’t abandon Malcolm even if Bright would never know. JT and Dani couldn’t either. </p>
<p>Gil was sure he didn’t breathe through any of it. He couldn’t possibly draw breath watching what Malcolm was subjected to. The brutality of it staggered him. They all studied the video, furious and frightened as a woman in a leopard print zentai beat Malcolm mercilessly. Even more terrifying than the torture was the conversation Bright appeared to be having with the ether, talking to the wall as if he saw someone there. His mind was coming apart. What would they even get back if they didn’t track him down soon? He could end up catatonic, resting permanently in an upscale, kinder version of Claremont. </p>
<p>“How much more can he handle, Gil?” JT asked.</p>
<p>“We’re never going to find him fast enough,” Dani whispered.</p>
<p>“We have a clue now. Jess said that there are properties she’s aware of in Vermont and up near the Finger Lakes. Eastlack, if you can get your recognition software on those properties.”</p>
<p>“We will as soon as we get the addresses.”</p>
<p>Gil nodded, wishing he could do more but there was nothing he could do other than help his team do the property check. He’d run that past Garcia to be sure she wouldn’t veto it.  She might just on the basis that he technically wasn’t at work and they would want everything above board, especially after the nightmare Endicott had created in the judicial system.  He might have to leave it to JT and Dani, and continue to sort through the names with Jessica. Steeling himself, Gil went to talk to his captain. He had an urge he hadn’t had in years; he wanted to go light a candle to Mary. He might swing past the closet Catholic Church and do just that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Don’t Say Goodbye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Eight – Don’t Say Goodbye</p>
<p>JT spotted Dani sitting at Malcolm’s desk, hunched over it. She wasn’t crying but probably barely avoiding it. All of them were scarcely holding on. He wanted to scream and punch something himself. Gil was going to drive himself into an early grave if he wasn’t careful. This was worse than when Watkins had Bright. Having to watch Bright suffer was more than they should be expected to handle.</p>
<p>Part of him wondered if Captain Garcia would pull them off. By rights, she probably should but she also knew they would protest so loud and hard, the walls might crack under the force of it. He pulled a chair up to Bright’s desk but Dani didn’t look at him.</p>
<p>“I wish….” JT trailed off. He didn’t know what he wished. That they would get the big clue and break this wide open, that they’d have Bright back within the hour. How many properties would this Hayes woman have? What if it wasn’t Hayes? Would there be repeated incidents like the time at Whitly’s cabin, them running in, adrenaline high, only to crash out when the place was empty. </p>
<p>Dani raised her gaze to his, daring him to complete that thought.</p>
<p>“We need to get on the property search,” he said instead. “If you need a moment…”</p>
<p>“I can do it,” she snapped, pushing away from Bright’s desk.</p>
<p>“There’s no shame in needing a moment,” he said, wondering if he should. He knew that the women in the military and the police force – and probably too many other jobs to think about – had a different set of expectations put on them. Her needing a second to clear her head could be seen as weakness.  He, on the other hand, wouldn’t be blamed if he actually let himself step outside of the job briefly. God knew he wanted to because the horror of it all was getting to him too. He touched his belly, the burritos Mrs. Whitly brought souring inside his gut. “I damn well do.”</p>
<p>Dani threw her head back, letting her hair tumble off her shoulders. “I want coffee but I’m afraid I’ll throw it up,” she whispered.</p>
<p>“I get that.”</p>
<p>She met his gaze. “What good are we to him if we fall apart?”</p>
<p>JT let his breath out slowly. “We can’t help that we’re close to this. Taking a breather isn’t the same as falling apart. Come on, let’s get on the searches. We can’t do much else.”</p>
<p>Dani nodded, following him to their desks. He logged back into his computer and she did the same. “I’ll take Vermont.”</p>
<p>“I’ll start with New York.”</p>
<p>Suddenly Dani slammed her hands down and stormed off. JT popped back up and followed her into the break room. Spotting Bristow as the lone detective in there getting bad coffee, JT jerked a thumb at him. Bristow, sensing something was wrong, scooted out.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” she whispered. “I know I’m not…”</p>
<p>JT put a hand on her shoulder. “You need time. Take it.”</p>
<p>“It’s not that.” Dani cupped a hand over her mouth as if to hold it all in. “Whoever has him, if it’s Hayes or someone else, they’re hurting him so much JT. You heard what Swanson said, they were watching porn distributors. How long before that’s what’s done to Bright? Even if they don’t toss him into the middle of a violent gang bang, how much more literal torture can he take before something in him breaks?”</p>
<p>JT had no answer for her. He’d seen men in combat break with less reason than Bright had at the moment, and he knew that Bright’s mental state was precarious at best.  He always seemed to rise to the occasion but still…JT shuddered. If it had been him buried alive, it might have been enough right there. JT wasn’t a fan of tight spaces. “I don’t know, Powell. I just know we didn’t give up on him last time. We’re not going to do it now.”</p>
<p>Her nostrils flared, fury sparking in her eyes. Was she thinking about Eddie’s death? They had damn well nearly given up on him then but that was different. He looked way too good as the killer of his girlfriend’s murderer. Bright had done nothing wrong this time. The poor bastard had been in his own home when someone tore him out of it and bundled him off to god knows where. Well, finding where was their job and they had better get to it soon.</p>
<p>“I feel like I’m saying goodbye to him, JT.” Dani rapped her knuckles against her sternum. “In here, everything says this is goodbye. No matter what, we’ll never get our Bright back.”</p>
<p>JT shook his head violently. “No, don’t say goodbye, Dani. We don’t say it until he is gone for good. We work this case like it deserves. We find him and then, he’s going to need us to help him get back to himself.”</p>
<p>“And if he’s dead.”</p>
<p>“Then we say goodbye when we eulogize him but not before,” he replied grimly, realizing something belatedly. He was losing a friend but was Dani losing something more? He’d have to be blind to miss the spark between them. JT doubted they were lovers but Powell cared for him like he hadn’t seen her care about anyone since her last, bad, boyfriend.   </p>
<p>Dani gasped loudly, covering her mouth again as she nearly broke. She shook herself, dropping her hands to her sides. “Thanks, JT. I needed that kick to the backside. But … he has to know that they’d recording this. What is that going to do to him?”</p>
<p>“We can’t know. You’re talking about a man who has gone through so much already. I don’t know if this will be what breaks him but we will deal with that when we get him back.”</p>
<p>Dani looked like she wanted to say more, and JT wasn’t sure what he’d say in return. He was barely hanging onto his own faith that they would get Bright back and he would be okay eventually.</p>
<p>“I’m ready to work now.”</p>
<p>“This is how we find him,” JT said, as much for himself as for her.  He had to believe it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Run</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Nine – Run</p>
<p>Malcolm sprawled on his belly on the dirty blanket in his basement cell. The pain in his back had diffused into an all-over dull ache from shoulders to calves. They hadn’t bothered to put his leg restraints back on, not that it would have mattered. Those he could get off easily enough. He’d been slowly working his arms free of the leather restraint bag Mistress Jezebel and Shelby had left him in.  They might have been of the belief he’d be in too much pain to do more than lie there panting.</p>
<p>For a while, that had been true. They might even expect his withdrawal was going to make things impossible for him to do much, provided Shelby even knew he was on addictive medication. That could still be true but Malcolm knew he was going to try to escape. Do or die, he reminded himself. At least his father had stopped watching the proceedings from the corner. Malcolm knew it was a hallucination but most of his hallucinations in the past had seemed far too real.</p>
<p>The worst part was his father might not be watching what was happening to him but, somewhere on the dark web, the last two videos of him were feeding a dark appetite. Using his body to hopefully shield his arms from view of any hidden cameras that were likely to be around to keep an eye on the people kept in this place before they were moved out to wherever, Malcolm had managed to get his arms free.</p>
<p>He had nothing he could pick a lock with and was barefooted. He was at a disadvantage in trying to kick down that door before someone spotted him. Serendipity came to his rescue. The door opened and a thin man with what looked like a knife scar going from the dented tip of his nose across to his ear came down the stairs with a tray. It looked like he’d been brought some protein drink and a bottle of water. Malcolm suspected both of them would have sedatives in them. It wouldn’t matter. He didn’t plan on drinking them.</p>
<p>He staggered to his feet, his thighs shaking. Pain spiked through his spine, and he moaned. He didn’t care. It would probably make the man think he was weak. Malcolm clung to the leather arm bag, trying to give no signs he was free. The man smiled at him with the black and brown teeth of someone who smoked too much meth. Shelby probably felt he was good for grunt work, just wing a little of the drug to him to keep him happy.</p>
<p>Her lackey put the tray down, and when he did, Malcolm kicked him hard in the face. He brought his leather-bound arms down on the side of the man’s neck, dropping him. Malcolm sprinted for the stairs, letting the bag slither off his arms. He was up the stairs and into a room of what had to be an old farm house. No one was in the mud room and his prize stood there, beckoning him forward.</p>
<p>The prized back door wasn’t locked, and Malcolm bolted through it. The concrete pad out back of the home scratched his bare feet but he barely felt it. Behind him someone shouted so he poured on speed the best he could with legs that were bruised and broken open in some places.</p>
<p>Barely scabbed over lash marks split back open as he ran, blood trickling down his legs. Hearing voices from around the front of the old home, he blazed a path toward the woods. He’d rather run on the road but  he could hear there were people between him and any road that might be out front of his prison. A quick glance around proved there weren’t neighbors. This place had to be a holding pen for their merchandise, far enough outside of the city that wouldn’t have neighbors to hear screams but probably within a half hour drive into the city where the prisoners could be more easily sold.</p>
<p>Running barefoot was never as easy as Hollywood made it seem. The uneven ground made footing uncertain. Grass might be soft but things lurked in it: little stones, brambles, and branches, all of which tore into his tender skin. Ignoring it the best he could, Malcolm ran for the tree line. It was would be slower going there but he’d have a lot more cover. If he were lucky, he could parallel the road and pop out onto it away from his captors.</p>
<p>There wasn’t much in the way of a trail, however. He’d been hoping for a walking path or a deer trail but there was nothing. <i>This might have been a mistake,</i>he thought bitterly. He had to slow down before he tromped on a hidden branch and impaled his foot like a tiger trap. Some thorny branch bit into his calf, taking a piece of it with it. Swearing under his breath, Malcolm pushed forward, grabbing onto trunks of trees for balance. The rough bark scraped his skin but Malcolm didn’t stop.</p>
<p>“The little bastard is in the woods,” someone bellowed behind him. Definitely not Shelby. It was a man.</p>
<p>Malcolm weighed his options. Her men might be charged with keeping him alive. Dead merchandise was wasted merchandise. Shelby didn’t want him dead. On the other hand, he had bashed one man into unconsciousness and was on the run. They might shoot him in the heat of the chase because he bet they had guns.</p>
<p>A small stream lay ahead. Malcolm made a quick decision. He’d leave less of a trail in the water so he splashed in, thankful it wasn’t much more than ankle deep but so damn cold. His feet went numb but he kept going, slipping, and sliding as he went. His mind went to Gavin Parker racing away from his son and how the team had found his body with that horrifying syndesmotic ankle fracture. He’d be lucky to escape that fate himself, especially as the numbness in his feet spread up his legs and river rocks were rounded, perfect for turning an ankle. The silt on the stream bed squished between his toes making his footing even less sure. Malcolm forced himself on, hearing people in the distance.</p>
<p>He needed to get out of sight but where could he go? Up a tree was possible. People rarely looked up. He could get lucky or he could get treed like a fox, not to mention Jezebel had beaten his shoulders into near uselessness.  Up ahead he saw an old bridge. Malcolm stumbled his way there and hauled himself up against the stanchion. Under the shadow of the bridge, he caught his breath before bullying his way through the thick underbrush, hoping he wouldn’t encounter a snake or something just as dangerous: glass litter that people seemed unable to keep themselves from tossing from their car windows.</p>
<p>Bridges, of course, meant roads, and the one he found was narrow with a double yellow line but no edge markers. He was definitely out in the country. Malcolm kept trekking away from the house, walking on the hot asphalt in spite of it feeling too warm against his iced feet. He clung tighter to the yellow line, hopefully further away from any litter that could slice him to the bone. </p>
<p>Hearing a car coming toward him – not from the direction of the home, or at least he didn’t think so – Malcolm’s heart raced. Provided whoever it was wasn’t terrified of the sight of a mostly naked man covered in blood and god knew what else, this could be his salvation. He staggered forward, adrenaline driving him faster now to meet whoever this was.</p>
<p>He spotted the black Lexus SUV, managing to get one arm in the air even though his beaten shoulders protested the move. Malcolm stumbled to a halt as the SUV slowed. They pulled to the side of the road and his spirit soared. He was safe.</p>
<p>The back window rolled down, leaving Malcolm staring uncomprehendingly at a pistol leveled at him. He didn’t know the well-dressed man aiming the .9mm at his gut but sitting on the seat next to him, Shelby gave him a little wave.</p>
<p>“I thought for sure when they said you escaped, I was done for. We were coming to burn the place down,” she said. “Well played, Malcolm. You almost made it.”</p>
<p>He drew in a breath before letting it out in staccato sobs. Malcolm turned on heel, feeling something tearing in his skin. Something deeper shredded in his mind.  He didn’t make it back into the woods before they grabbed him. The man and the driver tasered him and lashed him up with bungee cords before throwing him into the back of the SUV.</p>
<p>He squirmed, kicking first at the glass, and failing that, at Shelby’s head. Nothing was left in him but fury. The Tasers quickly robbed him even of that. <br/> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Trail of Blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Ten – Trail of Blood</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re bleeding again.”</p>
<p>Malcolm bobbled into consciousness. He barely remembered being tossed back in the old farm house’s basement. He had vague memories of being force fed water that had far too many sedatives in it. Now almost fully wake, he saw his father pacing along the mildewed wall. Malcolm tried to sit up, horrified to find he didn’t even have his underwear remaining now. He shivered uncontrollably, goose pimples covering his flesh. The cold seemed to come from within him.</p>
<p>His feet were caked with mud and blood. Things ached deep within his soles. He tried to balance himself in a seated position, surprised he wasn’t bound again until he realized something was around his neck. Padlocked into place was what looked like a shock collar for a large dog. Between that and how much sedative he’d been forced to swallow, Malcolm knew he wasn’t getting anywhere fast. Maybe the sedatives were close enough in chemistry to his own benzodiazepines to help stave off the withdrawal at least a little.</p>
<p>He forced himself to care for his feet, crawling first toward his toilet bucket because he didn’t want the mud all over his blanket. Malcolm knocked the filth into the bucket. Hissing as he pulled out slivers of wood from the balls of his feet and from the meat of his heels, more blood came. Malcolm squeezed the wounds to make them bleed more in a vain hope that the blood flow would wash out any pathogens. With his luck, he’d get tetanus if he lived through this.</p>
<p>“I said you left a trail of blood. Don’t ignore me, son.”</p>
<p>Malcolm snapped his head up, gazing at his father. He knew the man wasn’t really there but in the past, when his brain gave him his father in lecture mode it was because his subconscious had something it desperately needed to share with him. He wished it would pick a better avatar. Gil would be nice. Mother would certainly do as well. Even Dani or JT would be a good change of pace. But no, every time it was his damn father.</p>
<p>“I’m hurt,” he replied.</p>
<p>“I can see that.” His father gestured to the bloody trail from the blanket to deeper in the basement. He must have been brought through the passageway. Damn it why couldn’t he remember that? Apparently his brain didn’t want to hang onto anything important?</p>
<p>“I have to get the mud out of my wounds.”</p>
<p>“You need to do more than that. You’re in the basement again.”</p>
<p>“I know that too.” Malcolm sighed. The water they put into him had found its way to his bladder. There was precious little else in him, which might be good. He didn’t fancy sitting on that damn bucket. Painfully he lurched to his knees and peed in it.</p>
<p>“That is gross.”</p>
<p>Malcolm grunted at his hallucination and finished up.</p>
<p>“You’re also naked.” His father raised his bushy eyebrows.</p>
<p>“I’m aware.”</p>
<p>“You could die of hypothermia.”</p>
<p>“It’s not that cold in here.” Malcolm wasn’t entirely sure of that. It was probably barely sixty degrees but he was shivering. His feet still had a bluish tint from his race through the stream. </p>
<p>“Trench foot is a concern,” his father said. “You did run through water. It speeds hypothermia.”</p>
<p>“If you have anything helpful to say now is the time.” Granted trench foot might be good to know about. He might want to wrap his feet in the dirty blanket they had him lying on.</p>
<p>“You need a plan to get out of here,” his father said supremely unhelpful.</p>
<p>Malcolm shot him a dirty look. “I got out. I made it to the damn road. They caught me again. I am probably <i>miles</i> from help.”</p>
<p>“Do you really think so? Could they have taken you that deep in the woods?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why not? You did.” Malcolm ignored his father’s shrug as he tried to pick out the thorns stuck in his calves. Blackberry bush thorns, he thought, small but painful enough. </p>
<p>“I didn’t have a good basement like this. You’re in a house, not a cabin. Though I suppose it wouldn’t take much to drag you upstate or down into Jersey. Maybe next time you should try to get a weapon off one of these people. You could have shot them before they got out of the car had you grabbed a gun.”</p>
<p>Malcolm looked up at his father, studied the fury in his eyes. How his brain could reconstruct this so perfectly he didn’t know. He knew he was hallucinating but he could swear his father was really there, judging him and finding him wanting. He was thinking about shooting Shelby and the others so that was why his father suggested it. He should have been smart enough to grab a gun but he was fighting through the fog in his mind. It had been a miracle he’d gotten as far as he had. Even if he got hold of a gun, would he shoot? He hadn’t been able to shoot Endicott and he’d been lucky in the FBI, never having to discharge his weapon.</p>
<p>Forcing it from his mind – if he thought about how close he had come, he’d break down and he couldn’t afford it – Malcolm examined other parts of him for thorns or anything else still lingering in his skin and could fester.</p>
<p>“I think you’re in trouble,” his father said again.</p>
<p>“No kidding.”</p>
<p>“No, I mean they’re coming.”</p>
<p>Of course, they were. He heard the footsteps. His father moved to the far corner as Shelby came down with two of her men. He wondered where the well-dressed man was and who he might be. </p>
<p>Shelby scowled at him. “I didn’t think you’d be awake yet. Your liver must be from Krypton or something.”</p>
<p>He glowered back. His liver had been challenged by two decades of taking fists full of meds.  </p>
<p>“Oh, save that face for later. It’ll play well with our audiences. Right now, you’re too manky to even touch.” She snapped her fingers. “Put him back out. I don’t need him conscious.”</p>
<p>Malcolm braced himself for what he could guess would happen next. The two men wrestled with him, trying to force a bottle of water down his throat. Punching, kicking, and biting, Malcolm refused to make it easy. One of them kicked him square between the legs taking the fight out of him. They cut his gums jamming the bottle into his mouth. Malcolm sputtered and coughed as water ran into his lungs. They got the whole bottle into him, lungs, or stomach, it didn’t matter to them.</p>
<p>Shelby’s men didn’t wait for the drugs to take hold of him. They dragged him across the cold concrete, took off his shock collar, and abandoned him on a grate. Malcolm tried to struggle up but the roofies had to have been in high concentration in that water; he was going under fast. He managed to roll off the grate.</p>
<p><i>Grate? Are they going to bleed me out over it?</i> With that terrifying thought, he pushed himself harder, crawling away.</p>
<p>Shelby sauntered over and shoved him back with a toe. “Stay there, Whitly. It’s just easier that way but you’re not into doing it the easy way, are you?”</p>
<p>“Sorry, if that d-d-disappoints you,” he slurred.</p>
<p>She rolled her shoulder. “I’m finding it interesting if you must know. Go ahead boys.”</p>
<p>Suddenly something liquid hit him. Frightened it was an accelerant of some kind, Malcolm wiped frantically. The scent of lavender hit his nose and he realized it was soap a moment before icy water hit him. Her men hosed him down hard. Blood, mud, and bubbles puddled around him before sluicing down the grate.</p>
<p>Shelby watched the proceedings for a while before retreating up the steps but not before tossing another blanket into his area. Once they were satisfied he was less gross, they dragged him back barely conscious at this point, put his collar back on, and left him. Malcolm feared this would be his new prison, a chemical one. He had gotten past physical restraints twice so they were going to restrain his brain.</p>
<p>“You’re going to freeze,” his father said.</p>
<p>He nodded but managed to get the new blanket and wrapped it around his body. Malcolm stretched out on the older blanket and rolled up in it. He was warmer and that gave him some ease as he faded away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was meant to be the last chapter before the hiatus. However I've been doing a bit more in late night sprints on the Prodigal Son Trash server on Discord so there might not be an actual hiatus, just me slowly posting the chapters.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Crying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Eleven - Crying</p><p> </p><p>To her surprise, Jessica had fallen asleep on Gil’s office couch. She’d been so tired but so afraid, leaving her unable to sleep since she called Gil into Malcolm’s loft. When she sat down to wait for Gil and his team to run down Shelby Hayes’s land holdings, Jessica thought she’d come out of her skin.</p><p>Instead the softness of the couch cradled her. She could smell Gil on it and the Clive Christian cologne she had gotten for Malcolm. Both of the important men in her life spent time here. Jessica imagined them talking, about what her imagination didn’t take her that far. She knew it would be about work and what they did was too frightening, too dark for her. She teetered on that darkness’s edge every day, waking up with the memories of all the things Martin had done right under her nose, the overwhelming guilt for not seeing him for what he really was. Was she and Malcolm paying for that lack of insight now?</p><p>No, this was punishment for the next monster she let into her life. Jessica could all too easily imagine what had happened, the thing she had feared for years when her children were little: that they would be harmed because of what someone blamed them for that was not their fault. In this case Malcolm did help bring down Endicott but that didn’t make him responsible for John Hayes taking his own life. His own bad decisions were responsible for that.</p><p>With those dark thoughts running through her brain, Jessica thought for sure that she would never be able to relax but the comforting scents of the cozy couch proved her wrong. She sat up, rubbing her eyes only to realize that she heard Gil coming into his office and that had awoken her.</p><p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”</p><p>She shook her head and patted the cushion next to her. “Please, Gil, sit. You look awful.”</p><p>She watched annoyance flare in his dark eyes. He wanted to protest, she could see that but Gil sat: more like fell onto the couch. She took his hand. “I want you to come home with me.”</p><p>“I need to help them sort through more files, just in case we’re wrong about Hayes.”</p><p>“And if you collapse?”</p><p>Gil wet his lips, shaking his head. “I’ll be okay, Jess. I’m used to the long hours.”</p><p>“And you’re still recovering, Gil. You’ve only been out of the hospital a short time.” </p><p>She had nearly lost him. She had lost him one way years ago and now that she had him back, Jessica had been devastated that he’d been so badly injured on account of her. He wasn’t there to help Malcolm or Ainsley in those dark hours. By rights, he shouldn’t be here helping now. Gil needed to rest but part of her didn’t want him to stop. If anyone was going to find Malcolm, it was Gil.                           <br/>“I can do this,” he said but he sounded more exhausted than forceful.</p><p>“I can’t lose you both at the same time,” she whispered. “It’s too much for me, Gil.”</p><p>“You’re not going to lose me.” He sighed, shutting his eyes as he leaned back on the couch. “Garcia will order me home soon. I’m just trying to get as much as I can done now before that happens.”</p><p>“What if it’s not her, Gil?” Jessica tried to breathe but couldn’t get any air in. She fumbled for her purse but it wasn’t next to the couch. Where had she left it? Behind his desk? In a file cabinet drawer? She needed a Xanax, a valium, hell even one of those old Quaaludes. She had to stem the rising panic. Jessica welcomed the numbness but that wouldn’t help her son. No, she needed to stay as clear headed as she could. “What if she’s sold him?”</p><p>“She hasn’t. She still has him,” he replied.</p><p>“You can’t know that.”</p><p>“The videos have some metadata in them, Jess. We know the time periods over which they were taken. There probably hasn’t been enough time for him have been sold anywhere. She has him, making some quick money this way by selling the videos. I might not have Malcolm’s depth of book learning but I have experience enough to know if this is Shelby Hayes, then she is going to want retribution for her brother’s death. She would blame Malcolm for this. He toppled Endicott’s empire and her brother went down with it. I think she’s going to savor having Malcolm under her power.” He stroked her hair back, his hand almost feverish hot. Gil was worse off than she even thought.</p><p>“What are they doing to him, Gil? I understand why you don’t want me to see the video but I need to know…”</p><p>“Not this,” he broke in quickly, sternly. “You don’t need these details.”</p><p>“It’s that bad.” Jessica pressed her hand to her mouth. She had been trained all her life to ‘hide her crazy’ as her mother called it any time Jessica had been emotional as a girl. Miltons embraced the stiff upper lip ideal. Crying was for other people. She had always tried to keep calm but the look on Gil’s face shattered her like glass. If he couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t horrible, then her precious child was in more pain than she could imagine. In that moment Malcolm wasn’t an adult, he was the infant she brought home from the hospital, terrified that he might simply cease to be at any moment because he’d been too perfect to be real.</p><p>Jessica ached deep inside as if whatever were hurting Malcolm was inflicting pain on her too. She couldn’t stop the pain. It was too much for her. Tears slipped past her tight control. Gil gathered her to him, rocking her gently, letting her cry. Jessica clung to him. If she let him go, they both might die. His tears hit her skin, deepening her sorrow. Gil had never wept in her presence before.</p><p>Malcolm was going to die. She held out hope until now. Gil was grieving, and if that was the case then Malcolm had almost no chance. Jessica pulled away from Gil, wiping at her face. He levered himself up and fetched a box of tissue from his desk.  He gave it to her, holding back a few for himself.</p><p>“My information isn’t going to help, is it?”</p><p>“Don’t think that. It’s more than we had. It’s hope. Don’t let it go now, Jess. We have to hold onto it. We’re all he has,” Gil said.</p><p>“It’s not going to be enough.”</p><p>He cupped her shoulders. “It will be. We can’t give up now.”</p><p>“You’re grieving. Is he actually gone? Are you afraid to tell me?”</p><p>“I would be the first to tell you. I wouldn’t let anyone else do that,” he swore, and she believed him. “But he’s alive. He was alive at least a few hours ago. I don’t think she intends to kill him. If Shelby is in on her brother’s human trafficking ring then she will want to make money. Dead people are useless to a trafficker.”</p><p>Jessica would almost prefer him dead to that but she knew that was a foolish thought best kept to herself. Malcolm was cunning. If it came to being sold, he might find his way out, no matter how hurt he was. She didn’t want to think about what those videos were that had been sold to perverts. She would demand to know more if they got him back, one way or the other. “What can I do now, Gil? I hate this helpless feeling.”</p><p>“We’re debating on releasing his picture to the press. If we turn up the heat too high, Shelby might panic. The FBI will be here soon. They might have more resources. You could go home, Jess. I don’t think there’s anything more you can do here,” Gil said.</p><p>“Do you think…I know he trusts Dr. Le Deux but don’t you think I should…I don’t know.”</p><p>“Find someone who specializes in trauma, Jess. Malcolm is going to need it.”</p><p>Jessica swallowed hard, expecting Gil to push her concern aside. The bluntness, the dead look in his eye, it suddenly became that much worse. “I will,” she whispered.</p><p>“I should get back to Dani and JT, see if they’re making any headway. Will you be okay?”</p><p>She nodded. She wasn’t but she had to be for Malcolm’s sake. “Let me know if you want me to go through more of those files.”</p><p>“I will shortly.”</p><p>Jessica watched him go and then did the only thing she could in this moment. She started looking for the best psychiatrists money could buy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Broken Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Twelve – Broken Trust</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dani had returned to the precinct before the sun had risen. She’d passed out exhausted for a few hours when she had gotten home the night before but still she had barely slept. She popped awake a few hours before dawn, her whole body in pain. She must have been holding herself rigid as she slept. For a wild moment, she imagined she knew what Bright must be feeling in that moment. </p>
<p>He had to be terrified, in pain, and sick. She knew his medications needed to be taken daily. Dani knew better than any of them what it was like to go through withdrawal. She wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy. His suffering had to be intense. How much more time did he have before his captors accidentally killed him? Would the next video be one of a rape? Malcolm – dead eyed – enduring it had entered her dreams forcing her awake. And now she couldn’t dislodge it as much as Dani wanted to.</p>
<p>She had grabbed a quick breakfast from a food truck setting up down the block from the precinct and took it to her desk. Dani knew she would have been better served by trying to get back to sleep but it hadn’t happened. She fed Sunshine, having brought Bright’s bird to her place since Gil’s cats would have had a field day trying to eat her, and Mrs. Whitly had enough to worry about with her daughter still in a mental hospital and her son likely to join Ainsley if they did manage to get him back alive.</p>
<p>Dani turned on the computer and ate her weird pancake balls listlessly while it booted up. She had a few other people to look into as possible suspects: Ciara Walsh, Brian Sandor and Matt Mahoney, all people Mrs. Whitly knew and were known to Malcolm. Mrs. Whitly hadn’t thought he knew any of them well, or at least not as well as she did. </p>
<p>Deep down Dani considered Shelby Hayes was their likely target, after learning everything she and her brother had done to Bright over the years. Taking a hapless teenaged boy who only wanted to be loved out into the woods and tying him up there to be mocked showed an early disregard for life. Shelby and her brother, were he alive, would top anyone’s list of someone capable of burying Malcolm alive or watching him being whipped until he was on the cold cement floor, blood pooling around him as he begged. Money did not buy a good heart. Dani had seen too many times in her young life that money could twist and corrupt. The fact that Malcolm and his mother were as selfless as they were was a testament to their goodness. She wondered if either of them realized it.</p>
<p>By the time JT rolled in, Dani had worked her way through half a pot of the coffee she had made – and it had been decent for once. People in this precinct should be forced to take a day’s training at a coffee house based on the sludge that she most often found in the breakroom. He raised his eyebrows at her but his own red eyes said he hadn’t slept much more than she had.</p>
<p>“Making any progress?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I think we can eliminate Ciara Walsh. Her EZ pass puts her in Jersey before Malcolm disappeared because I know he was still with us when she left and she didn’t come back until the next day. I’m still working on the other two. Nothing has come in for our requested warrants for the Hayes’s properties.” Dani wondered if anything would. They didn’t have much to secure the warrants other than John Hayes’s suspected bad deeds and the idea that there was a woman in Bright’s loft when he went missing.</p>
<p>It might not be enough to get a judge to sign off on it. For that matter, she wasn’t sure they had found all the properties. Shelby and John Hayes might actually be intelligent enough not to use the holdings in their names or that of their parents.</p>
<p>“I found a corporation that I wanted to rundown today,” JT said. “I just didn’t have the brain cells left yesterday.” He rubbed his forehead. “I barely do today.”</p>
<p>“I know. What corporation? Maybe I can help.”</p>
<p>“Lakeside Winds, stupid name but it keeps popping up. It could be a shell corporation. You know how these people are,” JT said.</p>
<p>Dani nodded. “It’s a place to start.”</p>
<p>He peered at Gil’s closed door. “Is Gil in yet?” </p>
<p>“Unless he came back and slept on the couch, no. Garcia made him go with Mrs. Whitly, and hopefully he didn’t come back. He needs to rest,” Dani said.</p>
<p>“Gil knows what he’s doing,” JT said but they both knew Gil was pushing it. Who could blame him? Other than Bright’s mother and sister, Dani doubted anyone loved him as much as Gil. Her own conflicted feelings about Bright couldn’t compare, at least not yet. Maybe someday. She needed him back no matter what her complicated emotions were. Even if she hated Bright, she’d want him rescue from this nightmare.</p>
<p>Dani started working on Lakeside Winds holdings in Vermont while JT took New York. Gil came in about a half hour later. He asked for an update and went into his office with barely a word about what they reported. Dani wished he’d stayed home. He was pushing Garcia’s good will, and he needed the damn rest. Maybe she could put him on the Lakeside Winds duty too, checking Jersey. It would be easy work and make him feel useful.</p>
<p>“Have you checked the Jersey holdings yet, JT?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“I’m going to put Gil on it. It’ll be helpful, and it shouldn’t stress him too much.”</p>
<p>“Good idea.”</p>
<p>Dani picked up her coffee mug, filled it again and knocked on Gil’s door. He waved her in. “JT found this company, Lakeside Winds, and they have holdings all through New England, New York and New Jersey. We think they’re a shell company for the Hayeses. Do you want to run down the Jersey holdings?”</p>
<p>He shot her a look of pure gratitude. “I’ll get right on that.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Gil. Is his mom still holding on?”</p>
<p>He nodded. “Barely but Jess is strong.”</p>
<p>Gil didn’t need to tell her that. Dani was a little in awe of the woman who on her own went to record Endicott doing criminal crap, or for that matter had marched into Claremont and stabbed her ex because it would have – in theory – saved a life. Yes, both things were foolhardy and a little stupid but it had taken guts, and Dani could admire that part at least. As for the other, Bright was surely his mother’s impulsive kid.</p>
<p>JT rapped on the door, poking his head in, a worried expression on his face. “You better come quick.”</p>
<p>“There’s not another video?” Gil’s voice cracked at the thought.</p>
<p>“No but it does have to do with the FBI.”</p>
<p>Dani sidled past him and spotted Colette Swanson stalking across the bullpen followed by two other agents. She wore a pinstripe suit and still had her eyebrows draw in overdone. Dani felt catty noticing it but how could she not? Swanson’s gaze swept over her, cool this time, unlike the last time when she had sized Dani up as feminist power, an ally. Dani had somehow failed her.</p>
<p>“Detective Powell, Detective Tarmel is… Lieutenant, oh there you are, Lieutenant Arroyo.” Swanson sailed right past Dani. </p>
<p>“Special Agent Swanson. You’ll want to talk Captain Garcia. Her office is up one floor,” he said.</p>
<p>“You’re not on this case, correct?” Swanson sized him up, dismissing him out of hand.</p>
<p>“I’m still out on sick leave, just lending a hand. Powell can show you the way,” Gil replied diplomatically though Dani doubted he felt it.</p>
<p>“Actually, my men can get started right away while I do that. Do you have a room for us?”</p>
<p>Gil nodded. “I can show them to one.”</p>
<p>“Agent McLendon works cybercrime,” she gestured to the short redheaded man with her and “Agent Cordova works sex crimes and trafficking. Her team first found the tape of Bright.”</p>
<p>“We’re happy to work with you,” Gil said. “Follow me. Powell…”</p>
<p>“I’ll take Agent Swanson to meet Captain Garcia. This way.”</p>
<p>Swanson followed her without a word until they were in the stairwell when she stopped and appraised Dani. “You’re angry with me.”</p>
<p>“Why would I be angry? I’m just exhausted. I’ve barely slept since Bright was taken.” Dani shoved her hair back out of her face, furious that Swanson had so easily picked up on her irritation.</p>
<p>“You’ve been angry with me since last time.”</p>
<p>“You really want to do this now?” Dani stared at Swanson who didn’t flinch away. “Okay, yes I’m angry with you. You came here, disrespected Bright in his own house, you made him feel like shit. You acted like he was a serial killer working with Watkins. You made him doubt his own worth. He actually told me he was the problem.”</p>
<p>Swanson pursed her lips. “He’s right.”</p>
<p>“Shut up.” Dani flung up a hand. “I’m talking now. He said he was broken and he couldn’t be fixed. I’ll tell you what I told him, I don’t believe that. No one should be made to feel like that Agent Swanson. I don’t know what went down between you and Bright in D.C. I don’t care because if it were something truly awful you would have told me outright, rather than vaguely hint around that Bright will ruin me and my career.”</p>
<p>“He’s a danger, and he has no regard for his own mortality or others. It’s half the reason he’s in trouble now.”</p>
<p>“Bull,” Dani growled. “He helped to destroy an evil empire. He would have brought Endicott to justice if the man hadn’t tried to murder Gil and kidnap his mother and sister. We still don’t know all of what he did to Ainsley Whitly but whatever it was, she’s still hospitalized as a result. And because of Bright stopping all of that, some of Endicott’s crime buddies have taken Bright prisoner. Don’t get me wrong. I’m appreciative that you did tell us about the videos but you don’t get a pass on telling me that Bright is responsible for what is happening to him.”</p>
<p>Swanson held up her hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry but you’re seriously going to tell me he’s never broken your trust? That he hasn’t hung you out to dry to further his own agenda.”</p>
<p>“Never.” Dani hoped that sounded convincing. It was partly true. Bright had never betrayed her that way. Had he broken her trust? Yes, when he snuck out of his mother’s house and lied but he was right. If she had believed in him, it wouldn’t have come to that. Dani hated that he did it. She hated she forced his hand. She’d be damned if she told Swanson any of that. It wasn’t part of the public record, and she wasn’t about to air that dirty laundry. “He broke yours?”</p>
<p>“He broke my friend’s trust. Annette thought he was going back her profile to the higher ups and he didn’t. She died when she tried to prove her point on her own.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry for that. Was she right?”</p>
<p>“Does it matter?”</p>
<p><i>Yes</i>, Dani thought. If Bright was right, it was a tragedy. If he had been wrong, it might be more damning, like him, in his arrogance, pushing his own theories with no regard to others. She knew he could be like that but damn if he wasn’t almost always right.  “Yes, I suppose it does but right now, it doesn’t do much to help us. Let’s talk to Garcia and get you started.”</p>
<p>“All right. If Cordova is right, we need to find Bright and fast or he doesn’t have much of a prayer,” Swanson said.</p>
<p>Those were words Dani hoped never to have heard. She couldn’t lose him now. It was far too soon.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Oxygen Mask</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>While this is less violent than some chapters it does include being bound so tightly you can't move which could be triggering for some.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Thirteen – Oxygen Mask</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Malcolm concentrated on breathing because he was unable to do anything else. He woke up somewhere new. He could see very little of the room other than the ceiling. He seemed to be on a bed from the feel of it, and he’d been covered from head to toe in he suspected to be red plastic wrap. He knew mummification was a kink some people went in for but did they like to watch it? Wasn’t this boring for them? </p>
<p>He could scarcely move his chest which maybe was the turn on. What did he know? An oxygen mask had been settled over his mouth and nose to assist in that, probably because he’d been so tightly bound. It made the bullet grazes on his side and thigh throb and the welts on his back burned. His body tried to shake from the withdrawal he was deeply into but the plastic wrap held tighter than a death shroud. He sweated under it and tears trickled from the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t stop them nor did he feel particularly sad. Mostly he was numb. All he truly wanted was for this all to stop one way or the other. He shut his eyes against that thought.</p>
<p>Was he still naked? Malcolm thought so, hating to think of what <i>that</i> had to look like through swathes of red plastic. Was someone coming to torment him soon? Would they hurt him while he was forced to lie here immobilized? Rape him? He couldn’t begin to imagine what waited for him at this point. How much horrors lurked in Shelby’s head? How did someone with every advantage in life end up this twisted and cruel? </p>
<p>“Maybe you should start there?”</p>
<p>Malcolm opened his eyes to see Gil hovered against the ceiling. Perfect now some voyeur could watch him hallucinate while trussed up like the Mummy Returns.  He couldn’t open his mouth with the mask on, and he was afraid to dislodge it. What if no one was close by, and he suffocated? He didn’t want to die like this.</p>
<p>Of course, Gil was a hallucination so he didn’t need to voice his questions. He merely had to think them.</p>
<p>“Start where?”</p>
<p>“With how Shelby got so messed up or are you buying into Swanson’s some people are born bad?” Gil smiled.</p>
<p>“I don’t believe that. We’re broken by someone. I don’t think, however, that finding out what broke Shelby will help me. It will probably just upset her and things will get worse for me.”</p>
<p>“You think things could get worse for you right now, kid?” Gil creeped along the ceiling, making Malcolm’s skin crawl. He twitched under the plastic wrap. “You’re mummified. For all you know they’re coming for you to make this video more interesting.”</p>
<p>“Or they already fucked me on camera while I was unconscious. Every part of me already hurts so how would I know?” The thought made his stomach flip. Malcolm took a few deep but panicky breaths, getting the oxygen deep into his lungs. He needed to calm himself because if he threw up now, he would inhale it. He could get pneumonia and die. He could choke to death long before that happened. But it was true. He could have been raped every way conceivable while he was drugged into unconsciousness. Roofies went a long way to ensuring the victim wouldn’t remember it.</p>
<p>“You are in a bad way if you’re swearing,” Gil said.  “I don’t suppose appealing to Shelby’s damage will help but will trying to find a way to appease her desire to hurt you and stop her work?”</p>
<p>“Doubtful. She believes I’m the reason her brother is dead. She apparently loved him which in many ways I find hard to believe. I’m fairly sure she is much like my father, a malignant narcissist with sociopathic tendencies. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s something in the water in the Upper East Side.” </p>
<p>It made a lot of sense, Shelby being a sociopath, not the water joke. He remembered how easy it had been for her to hurt him for fun in high school. She had barely known him, just whatever John had told her. John was much the same, sadistic, enjoying all the hurt he had inflicted on Malcolm and the others he bullied at their school.</p>
<p>“It makes more sense if she were to just flee the country,” Malcolm said.</p>
<p>“Maybe she’s arrogant enough to think no one will connect her to her brother’s human trafficking business,” Dani said, joining Gil on the ceiling.</p>
<p>“Maybe but I don’t think it was John’s business. He might have been the front man but I’m betting she was the brains behind it. She more or less said so. Shelby is smart. John wasn’t. He only got to stay in our boarding school because of the insane amount of money his parents pumped into the place. He barely passed. He was probably in this business in part just to have his way with whoever they had in house that day. It wouldn’t surprise me if there’s a burying ground outside this farm house. Dani, where are you looking for me?”</p>
<p>“Where do you think?”</p>
<p>“If you’ve figured out that it’s Shelby, and I’m not sure how you could have, you’re doing a property search about now. Do you know there are videos?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” she said but that was just him wishful thinking. If they knew about the videos, there might be a clue to where he was. Endicott had dozens of NYC’s elite in his pockets, and even more when it came to justices, police, forensic labs, pharmaceutical labs, and god knew what else. His team was inundated with suspects and probably precious little in the way of clues. </p>
<p>He was going to die here.</p>
<p>“I wish you were real. I wish you two could come down here and get me out of this. I’m getting weaker. My body is going to break.”</p>
<p>Malcolm shuddered under the plastic wrap, making strange squeaking noises as it rubbed against more plastic.  It was true. Between withdrawal, druggings, beatings and a lack of food, his body would give out. Too many more sessions like this and his brain would shatter before his body did.</p>
<p>“Oh look, sleeping beauty has woke up,” Shelby taunted.</p>
<p>He hadn’t heard a door open but maybe there wasn’t one. He couldn’t turn his head to look. She sauntered over and stared down into his face.</p>
<p>“I think we have enough footage of this.” She slapped his cheek lightly. “Get him back downstairs. And Malcolm, there’s a little soup and bread waiting for you. I suggest you eat it while I’m feeling generous.”</p>
<p>He’d eat anything at this point. His strength was flagging and as much as food often did upset his stomach, he needed to eat. He’d be drugged again with the food but better that way than them jamming a needle in his arm or forcing it down his throat again because he knew Shelby wouldn’t hesitate. </p>
<p>Malcolm couldn’t answer her anyhow though she knew that. She stared into his eyes and then ripped away his oxygen mask. Malcolm gasped like a landed fish, panic gripping him. His jaw fought against the plastic wrap that went around it like a modern-day Marley with his tied-up mandible. The malicious smile that slithered across Shelby’s face told him just how much she enjoyed his fear. If they were lovers, he’d find her wet and swollen with excitement. Maybe the video of him trussed up was simply for her.</p>
<p>“Relax, you can actually breathe.” She slapped his face again and disappeared from his line of sight.</p>
<p>A couple of men stomped in and lifted him up. They roughly carried him down stairs, sliced off the plastic wrap and left him there with a large bowl of what smelled like the cheap Campbell’s chicken soup he sometimes found in Gil’s pantry. Malcolm didn’t care. His limbs tingling horribly from the returned circulation but he managed to tear up all the bread and put it in the broth. He slurped the drugged brew straight down and gladly returned to the pain-free darkness unconsciousness promised him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning - this one has descriptions of what happens to humans in a fire from sights to smells.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Fourteen - Fire</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Dani never had to go out to the woods with Colette Swanson again, she’d be a happy woman. They had gotten a call from a local sheriff about one of Hayes’s rural Dutchess county properties, and they had made the long drive up there with Gil in the backseat of her and JT’s car. Swanson had driven up with Cordova and joined up with the locals.</p>
<p>Almost no one had spoken in the over an hour-long drive because of what they had been told before they had left the city. This was an old farmhouse with several acres of land. Was it too remote to be a holding pen for people to traffic? Dani didn’t know. She had a bowling ball in her stomach because the report also mentioned a large fire and bodies. No one had more information than that at the time. </p>
<p>Edrisa had wanted to come but the local sheriff didn’t want outsiders ‘messing up his crime scene.’ Dani both felt bad that Edrisa had been excluded because she knew how much Bright meant to the medical examiner but right now she needed the silence, and Edrisa didn’t know the meaning of the word. Hell, she, and JT had only been invited along when Swanson mentioned FBI- NYPD joint task force to the local cops. </p>
<p>She couldn’t concentrate on the potential turf war once they got there. Dani didn’t give a damn about that. All she needed to know was who was in that fire. If Bright was dead, she needed to know. She needed to find a way to say goodbye but JT’s pep talk rang in her mind. She couldn’t give up yet. Bright was alive until proven otherwise.</p>
<p>The farmhouse was a smoldering pile of rubble when JT parked under a tall tree next to Swanson and Cordova’s car. The local sheriff, a lanky, middle-aged White man waited for them there, distress in every inch of his face. When Dani stepped outside, she reeled back against the car. Gil put a hand on her shoulder but the smell got him too. JT froze, a thousand-yard stare fixating on the fire.</p>
<p>The sulfurous stench of burnt hair mingled with smells of steak and pork grilling. Something sweet wafted along with these scents, mixed with a coppery undertone. Dani had only ever smelled a burnt body once before but it wasn’t a smell you could forget. </p>
<p>Gil nodded to JT and Dani used the car to steady her as she walked to her partner. Her legs shook, and she didn’t trust them to hold her. The look on JT’s face said he wasn’t here with her. Dani scowled. They should have realized this scenario might take him back to the war. </p>
<p>“JT,” she said softly, wanting to touch his arm, to comfort JT but it might startle him instead. Even the sound of her voice made him jump. When he looked at her, Dani wasn’t sure he saw her. It could easily be someone else he saw. “If you need to stay with the car….”</p>
<p>JT shook his head, skimming a hand over his forehead. “I can do this. He’d do it for me, no matter how triggered he was.”</p>
<p>Dani would like to think that was true. “I know. Okay, let’s see what these guys know.”</p>
<p>JT sucked in a deep breath, and he followed her toward Colette and Cordova who were already talking to the tall sheriff. Dani couldn’t remember what his name was. Gil stood with the two FBI agents. Dani wished again that he had stayed back in the city. If this was Bright’s body in the smoldering, burnt out house, it was going to kill Gil and she couldn’t handle that.</p>
<p>“Sheriff Rodgers, these are Detectives Powell and Tarmel,” Colette said. “They are the detectives Malcolm Bright worked with.”</p>
<p>He gave them a cursory nod. “We were headed out here after we got your query about Mr. Hayes, just to see what might be going on…we got the call about the fire before we got here. It’s…” He pinched up his features. “It’s not pretty to say the least. There are three bodies we’ve found so far. I don’t think we can know at the moment if your missing man is among them.”</p>
<p>“How bad is it?” Cordova asked.</p>
<p>“Bad enough that I don’t want to see them again,” he replied with a shudder. “There’s nothing left that would indicate gender. Do you have any reason to believe it’s your profiler?”</p>
<p>“Some,” Colette said before Dani or JT could respond. “And more than enough to think this house was used for human trafficking.”</p>
<p>Sheriff Rodgers winced. “You sent a photo of the profiler but it isn’t going to be useful here.”</p>
<p>“Show us,” Gil demanded.</p>
<p>Rodgers nodded, frowning deeply. He led the way and they all followed silently. The smell of cooked humans intensified. Dani wished she couldn’t smell it but permeated everything. She’d be smelling it on her hair even if she showered three times. Worse, she could taste it coating the back of her throat. Next to her, JT gagged. She wouldn’t suggest he stay behind again but Dani really wished he would. He was going to do himself mental harm. Then again, weren’t they all?</p>
<p>Ash strewn cement stairs led down to what had to have been the basement. The three bodies were huddled in one corner. Things Dani had learned from listening to Edrisa in the past; it was almost impossible to burn up a human body on your own. It took a lot of heat and a lot of time to consume the bones. On the other hand, burning away fingerprints and identifying marks took less time.</p>
<p>Rodgers was right. There was no way of knowing if these were men or women. Nothing but blackened flesh remained. Their arms were drawn up in a boxer’s stance. If Dani remembered right that meant they had been alive when the fire caught them. Nothing about them was identifiable. If one of them was Bright, they wouldn’t know until the dental exam came back. God, had Gil asked Jessica for the name of Bright’s dentist or did he know that already? Dani couldn’t imagine asking someone she cared about for access to their loved one’s dental records.</p>
<p>“It’s not him,” she whispered, and Colette gave her a sharp look. </p>
<p>Gil put a hand on Dani’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“Let’s not speculate,” Colette said.</p>
<p>“No, Dani’s right, the one closest to the wall is definitely not Bright, look, the flesh above the ankle has been burnt away. I can see a plate and screws,” Gil said. “Bright has never broken his ankle like that.”</p>
<p>“There could be a plate number on that,” JT said. “You might be able to track the hardware.”</p>
<p>“And that one has a gold tooth,” Dani pointed to the middle victim, hating her relief at that. Someone was still dead but it wasn’t Bright. “They might be some of your victims, Cordova.”</p>
<p>She nodded. “The question becomes, do we think it was an accidental fire or were they burned alive to remove evidence?”</p>
<p>“We have the arson investigator on the way with a dog but several of my men swore they smelled accelerant on the far side of the building,” Rodgers said.  “I’m still struggling with the idea that someone would bring trafficking victims out here.”</p>
<p>“It’s a good, far-away place to hide someone until the heat dies down,” Cordova said. </p>
<p>Colette jumped as something chimed and dug out her cellphone. “It’s McLendon. I should take this.”</p>
<p>“Maybe there’s another video.” Gil sounded hopeful, which was a freaky thing given the circumstances. That said, Dani hoped so too because it might mean Bright was alive.</p>
<p>Colette ran back up the stairs. Dani followed. There was nothing else for her to see in the basement. They couldn’t touch the bodies until the medical examiner got there, and it was hotter than hell inside the still smoldering home. Gil and JT moved with her as if on a tether. </p>
<p>A huge scowl etched into Colette’s face and she texted furiously. “We have another video,” she confirmed. </p>
<p>Colette held out the phone so they all could see a little better. Dani couldn’t even tell what was going on at first but the time stamp put it at just before they hit the road to come north. The house had already burned down at that point. </p>
<p>“What is happening here?” JT asked.</p>
<p>“It’s mummification.” Cordova’s voice startled them all. “It’s a fetish but not one I’ve seen sold much as it’s very passive. Unless…”</p>
<p>They all shuddered in unison. Dani had worked vice briefly. She knew what the “unless” was, unless someone wanted to see a completely immobilized person being taken physically by another. Nothing on the video suggested that was happening. Bright, if it was him, it was hard to tell, was covered head to toe in red plastic wrap and an oxygen mask covered his face.</p>
<p>“But the time stamp.” Dani pointed to it. “If that’s right, then Bright was alive when we were in the car on our way here. He couldn’t possibly be the third victim in the basement.”</p>
<p>“No,” Gil whispered. “He isn’t here.”</p>
<p>“I have to agree. This isn’t your crime scene,” Colette said. “But it still is ours. It hooks into the trafficking case.”</p>
<p>JT nodded. “Then we can go back to the city and keep up the search while you deal with this.”</p>
<p>“I think that would be the best allocation of resources,” Cordova replied. “Colette and I can work with the sheriff here. You can join back up with McLendon and hopefully come up with another location.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Gil said. “We’ll call you if we uncover anything.”</p>
<p>“Sounds good,” Colette said, signaling Cordova to follow her back toward the burnt-out home.</p>
<p>Dani couldn’t remember being happier to be leaving the scene of a crime. Gil stumbled, barely catching himself before he fell. Dani steadied him. “Why don’t you stretch out in the back, Gil? Your gut has to be hurting.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, Powell.”</p>
<p>Dani narrowed her eyes at him, and Gil sighed. However, he did as he was told, curling up on the back seat, looking acutely uncomfortable. Dani wished JT would just stomp on the accelerator and fly them back home. There were many more Hayes-owned properties to weed through. Wherever Bright was, he wasn’t in this basement. JT opened the windows, letting the air sluice through, carrying away the stench of the crime scene.</p>
<p>“With any luck, McLendon has pulled some metadata off that transmission,” JT said.</p>
<p>“I can settle for knowing Bright didn’t burn alive. It was too awful thinking that all the way here,” Dani said, and both men made unhappy noises. “All I can think is, at least he’s still alive.”</p>
<p>“We’re getting him back,” JT said in a tone that brooked no argument.</p>
<p>Dani had none to offer. That was the only way this ended; Bright was coming home to them even if they had to storm hell to find him.<br/> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Nightmare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter does have some gore to it in a nightmare landscape.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter  Fifteen– Nightmare</p><p> </p><p>“Mom, Gil, I’m home!” Malcom called cheerily. Nothing was better than leaving boarding school for a break. Sure, he’d miss Vijay but it would only be for a short time. At thirteen, Malcolm honestly wished he could be able to choose whether or not he went to boarding school.</p><p>His choice would be to never return even though he’d miss Vijay. He was the only friend Malcolm had but the rest of the kids there were a nightmare. His face still hurt from the last beating he’d taken, leaving him with a scar running through his eyebrow. It would have been worse without Vijay there. He could have lost an eye or teeth. </p><p>Vijay said he should fight back but….wouldn’t that make him like his father? Gil had said the same thing as Vijay but Malcolm couldn’t make that leap. Gil had taught him a little about defending himself but Malcolm never seemed to be able to do it. Every time he tried, his body refused to obey. All he could see in his mind’s eye was him running in the woods, screaming, and he had no idea why.</p><p>“Mom! Where are you?” he called, wondering where everyone was for that matter.  None of the servants were around and there were no sounds of his mother’s employees who often used the dining room as a work space.  “Ainsley?”</p><p>Malcolm wrinkled his nose. His sister was anything but quiet. Malcolm looked around the first floor but saw no one about. Maybe they had gone shopping but would they have done that knowing he was coming home? Usually Mother had a big dinner for him whenever he came home, full of the few things he still liked to eat.</p><p>Malcolm picked up the phone and called Gil. “Hey, Gil, I’m home.”</p><p>“Hey kid, glad to hear it. Jackie and I can’t wait to see you.”</p><p>“Same here. Did Mom tell you she wasn’t going to be here when I got home?” Malcolm made a face, still confused about that.</p><p>“No, what’s going on, kid?”</p><p>“No one’s here.”</p><p>“I’ll be there as soon as I can. You hang tight, okay.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Malcolm hung up, scowling. Gil sounded worried. Should he be worried too? Malcolm’s tummy turned over. This <i>did</i> make him nervous. His mother should be here. Malcolm went upstairs to his room. He sat on the bed and looked around. Funny, this didn’t feel like his room anymore. Maybe it was because he spent so much time at school. Maybe it was because all he had to do was shut his eyes and his dad would be there, reading stories to him. He missed that <i>so</i>! His dad read stories so well, acting everything out. He made it fun. In those first weeks after the police took his father away, Mom tried but she didn’t have that flare and of course, Malcolm could more than read any of the books on his own. He was reading at a college level. </p><p>He sighed, flopping back on the bed. Gil had snuck him things to read that Mother didn’t approve of, like comic books. He had enjoyed those. Vijay did the same only he had somehow gotten hold of a stash of <i>Playboys</i>, probably his father’s or something. They had looked at them, overstimulating themselves. Naturally, Vijay couldn’t shut up about them. The teachers got wind of the magazines, and their mothers had been called. Malcolm could still hear his mother screaming at him, and then she made him read some truly boring crap and do a book report on it because he had tried to convince her he had only been reading the articles and not looking at the naked ladies. She sat there and listened to him read the boring crap to her. Gil laughed and laughed when Malcolm told his friend, and he informed Malcolm no mother anywhere would believe the ‘I was just reading the articles’ lie. Malcolm suspected Gil had tried that himself at his age or was Gil older than <i>Playboy</i>? He had no idea.</p><p>He rubbed his face, feeling the new ridge of scar tissue in his eyebrow. Where was everyone? Just then something banged in the room down the hall. Was that Ainsley’s room? Were they home just taking a nap? Sometimes Mom took her pills along with something to drink that smelled bad and burned his nose when he sniffed it. He knew it had some kind of whiskey in it. It didn’t matter. Whatever the cocktail was, mixed with her pills it could make her sleepy.</p><p>Hearing another bang, Malcolm slipped off his bed and walked to his sister’s room to investigate. He knocked on the closed door, surprised actually that it was closed. “Ains?” Hearing nothing, Malcolm opened the door and stepped inside. Her room was ridiculously girlie. Her bedspread was a frothy white lacy thing and a big stuffed unicorn stretched out over the pillows. It made him itchy just looking at it. A strange red spot was centralized in the bed.</p><p>Frowning, Malcolm looked at the spot. Their mother would be furious if Ainsley got paint or jelly or something on her bedding. The spot slowly grew. Confused, Malcolm took as step closer and now he saw the slow drip of something red. He turned his head so he could peek up at the canopy of her bed, and he shrieked. Ainsley hung there in the arms of The Girl in the Box who was picking open Ainsley’s neck a little strip at a time. The Girl in the Box spun her head all the way around like an owl. She opened her mouth showing red-smeared teeth and dropped Ainsley so she could reach for him.</p><p>Ainsley hit the bed like a rag doll and The Girl in the Box unfurled from the canopy like a giant spider. Screaming, Malcolm ran out of the room. He fled down the hall yelling for his mother. He pounded on the door.</p><p>“Mom! Mom, open the door!” He banged on it until his hands hurt. Malcolm looked over his shoulder and the Girl in the Box crawled across the ceiling, heading his way. Malcolm slammed his hands on the door harder. “Mommy!”</p><p>The door flew open and Malcolm scrambled inside. “Mom!” The bedroom was empty so he tore through to her dressing room. His mother sat in front of her vanity in a long flowing robe. An eyeless woman combed his mother’s hair while a man with no tongue shouted wordlessly at them.</p><p>Malcolm knew them, knew their names and how his father had killed them. Oh, his mother didn’t know he knew but he had started reading about it when he started seeing his father in Claremont. His dad’s victims had come back for them all. </p><p>“Mom?” his voice quavered as two more victims dropped from the ceiling and one popped out from behind the closet door.</p><p>He froze, unable to scream, to even blink. The eyeless victim pulled on his mother’s hair and her head came off with a spray of blood. Something inside of him burst. Shrill screams, tears, all his fear, guilt, and grief flooded out of him. Malcolm sprang into action, flying past the monstrous victims of his father. He made it to the stairs and jumped on the bannister, sliding down it faster than he could ever have run down the steps.</p><p>He pelted across the foyer, just in time to see Gil come in the door. Still screaming, he raced for Gil.</p><p>“Kid, what’s wrong?” Gil asked, pale and his brow furrowed.</p><p>“They’re here!”</p><p>“Who is-?” </p><p>Gil didn’t get to finish his question. Blood fountained from his mouth as a hand popped through his chest clutching his heart. As Gil slipped from the arm impaling him, Malcolm saw another of his father’s victims, Billy Franklin, standing there, his chest held open by surgical tools. He looked at Gil’s heart and placed it in his own body, in the space where his own heart once was until Malcolm’s father had removed it.</p><p>Malcolm made a cry like an animal dying as Billy grabbed him.</p><p>He sat up, blinking rapidly. Billy was gone. He wasn’t home. He wasn’t thirteen. He was lying naked between dirty blankets in some basement with a shock collar around his neck. Malcolm could barely orientate himself. The basement door opened.</p><p>“Oh good, you’re awake again,” Shelby said from the top step. “We can have some more fun.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was one of the most fun to write because you can do anything in the surreal land of nightmares. Thanks to Rikki Wilde for the inspiration for this chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Hallucinations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>References the use of a shock collar and humiliation play. Also contains descriptions of drug withdrawal from Benzodiazepines and hallucinations.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Malcolm leaned against the mildew covered stone basement wall. He had been face down on the floor until moments ago. The shock collar around his neck hurt more than he expected. Shelby had used it as part of yet another video. Jezebel had been back, this time with a dog leash. It had been ‘training’ time. Any time he hadn’t obeyed, they shocked him.</p><p>He refused to do anything they asked, probably exciting the hell out of whoever was watching. Eventually all he could do was twitch on the floor. He hoped that whoever watched the video was disappointed as hell by the time it got to him flopping around on the ground. Malcolm also hoped that maybe, just maybe, all the shocks would work like a mini ECT session. Of course, with his luck, it would erase good memories. He’d lose that sweet romance he had at Harvard or going to Venice and Rome with his Mom and Ainsley. He’d retain all the horror.</p><p>“That was vicious.”</p><p>Malcolm glanced up at his father. “I preferred it when I was hallucinating Gil and Dani.”</p><p>His father wrinkled his nose, his furious look chilling Malcolm more than the cold stone. “You would prefer Gil. Also, you should get away from that filthy wall with all the little wounds on your body not to mention those bullet grazes. I see you’re still naked.”</p><p>“I don’t think I’m getting my clothes back.” Malcolm couldn’t stand between the shocks and the sedatives floating in his circulatory system. He crawled back toward his blankets. Was there still a camera on him? Probably. Shelby no doubt had someone splicing in this humiliating show of him on his knees into the earlier training session. What would they think about him talking to his hallucinations? Shelby was probably rolling on the floor laughing.</p><p>He barely made it to his bedding when the seizure hit. Malcolm had no idea how long he had been out but his head and heels hurt horrible when he next became aware of his surroundings. The first thing he saw was Shelby walking straight through his father who scowled at her back once she had passed him.</p><p>She kept her distance, not trusting him not to bite her again. He would if he thought it would get him somewhere but right now he barely had the strength to lift his head, let alone bite her and run for it.</p><p>“I thought you might be dying.”</p><p>“Withdrawal,” he murmured. “My medicines are addictive.”</p><p>“Sucks to be you.” Shelby scowled. “I didn’t think it was going to be this bad.”</p><p>“Probably going to get worse.”</p><p>“Eh, we’ll just keep you snowed under. It probably will help.” </p><p>With that she went back upstairs.</p><p>“Can’t say I approve of her plan,” His father said.</p><p>“Me either.” Malcolm slipped between the two blankets, happy to get at least a little of the chill off his body. “I’m going to die here.”</p><p>“With that attitude you will.”</p><p>Malcolm grimaced. “What attitude should I have?”</p><p>“Maybe one that remembers that she wants to sell you once she’s bored with you.” His father sat cross legged next to him. He put a hand on Malcolm’s arm, and he swore he could actually feel it. “I’m not sure how to proceed, son. Do you keep her entertained? How many videos can she make of you? What will she do next?”</p><p>“There was some mention of pegging me raw, which also doesn’t have my approval.” His chest heaved as his brain helpfully filled in what sort of device Shelby might come up with for that. It no doubt would be more ‘impressive’ than anything he’d enjoyed in the past and there would be absolutely nothing enjoyable about what Shelby and Ms. Jezebel were likely to do to him.</p><p>“You did want to have sex with her once.” His father raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“No, not really. I was a kid. I would have been happy with a kiss.” Malcolm shuddered at the memory. </p><p>“However, you want to put it, the problem remains, you might at least be better off here than being sold off. You already know some of the lay out of the land. If you can get back out that door…”</p><p>Malcolm stared at the ceiling. “I won’t go to the road this time. I might stay with the creek but it was hard to walk in it, and now I’m completely naked.”</p><p>“That will at least generate some calls to the police. Officer, there’s a pervert running around.” His father chuckled.  “Next time you knock one of them down, take their pants and their weapons.”</p><p>He pulled the blanket to his chin, feeling the aura coming this time. When the second seizure passed, Malcolm came out of it to find his father looming over him. </p><p>“Maybe you do need whatever sedative they’re giving you but it would be for the best if you didn’t take them.”</p><p>“I try not to but they force them down my throat. They’re in all the food and water, not that they’re giving me much of either.”</p><p>“That is not ideal.”</p><p>“I know. Gil would have ideas…” he murmured beginning to fade. The seizures had exhausted him.</p><p>“What is it you see in that cop? He’s done everything he can to take you from me.”</p><p>“Hasn’t taken me.” Malcolm shook his head. “You didn’t do enough to hold on. Your experiments were worth more to you than me and Ains.”</p><p>“That’s not true, my boy. You are the most important thing in the world to me. I just can’t help what I am. You surely understand what a compulsion is.”</p><p>Malcolm made a soft sound of assent. “Gil is the best man I’ve ever known. He hasn’t given up on finding me.”</p><p>“He was badly injured recently. The stress of this has probably killed him.” His father smirked.</p><p>He glared at his father. “Don’t say that. Gil is alive. He’s coming for me. Dani and JT too. Mother will give every last dollar she has to help them find me.”</p><p>“And is that your master plan? To wait until your precious Gil gets here.”</p><p>Malcolm shook his head. “I need to find an opportunity. I won’t get many if I get sold. I could be taken to a place worse than this.”</p><p>“I would say that is a definite. You need to clear your head, my boy.”</p><p>“Wish it was as easy as saying it.” Malcolm sighed. “I’m not sure Shelby will sell me any time soon. She might just keep me for herself. She was always sadistic She’s getting to live out some of her fantasies with me. I think…this might last a long while.”</p><p>“I can’t tell if that is a good or bad thing.”</p><p>Malcolm closed his eyes, trying to shut out his father and any thoughts about what Shelby might do next. “Not good, no matter what happens, nothing good is in my future.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Blackmail</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Seventeen – Blackmail</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jessica had been shocked to see Cricket’s son Connor at her door. Even before Martin’s guilt had come out, Cricket had been an insufferable bitch. Of course, in those days Cricket had kissed Jessica’s feet. Cricket had merely married into money while Jessica was as close to royalty as America had. The Miltons, the Taylors, the Astors, they had been powers in New York for generations. It had meant something once. Jessica remembered it too well but at the same time it felt distant. She hadn’t been that woman in two decades. All she could hope for now was that she had never been as high handed, elitist, and bitchy as Cricket.</p>
<p>Still none of that had prepared her to see Louisa escorting Connor into her home. Jessica met him filled with curiosity and a little trepidation. She hadn’t wanted to see anyone, not now that the news had caught wind of Malcolm’s disappearance, which is all the police and the FBI had given them. Malcolm Bright had disappeared, not that he’d been kidnapped from his home. Jessica had listened to the newscast, hating that it should have been Ainsley giving it. Ainsley had been allowed a phone call to her but Jessica had nothing to tell her that would help ease her fears. Unfortunately Ainsley wasn’t the only one with ‘phone time.’ </p>
<p>Damn Martin anyhow for abusing his. Damn herself for not changing out that old phone number or just killing the landline. In the middle of his rant for not being informed that Malcolm was missing – as if he had any right to know – she had screamed back, unleashing all her fears on her ex. He had been the root of all of this. If he hadn’t messed with Endicott all those years ago, Nicholas wouldn’t have been nervous about what Eve and Malcolm were about to uncover. He wouldn’t have seduced Jessica just to keep her as a trump card, something to hold over Malcolm’s head if he got too close. She had been close to hysterics when Gil took the phone from her and hung it up without a word to Martin. He was smart enough not to stoke the fire.</p>
<p>She wished Gil were here right now. After getting a little sleep, he’d gone back to the station. She planned to go herself, just to have another look at those names with a fresher head, such as it was. She didn’t have a clear enough head to deal with Cricket’s brat, Jessica knew that much.</p>
<p>“What can I do for you, Connor?” What Jessica really wanted to say was, I don’t have time for you. I have to figure out a way past the reporters without them bothering me and asking inane questions like ‘how do I feel knowing my son is missing?’ Adolpho would be good at getting her past the gauntlet but just knowing they were outside her home upset her. How did this little weasel get past them? She’d have to talk to Louisa about opening the door to just anyone right now.</p>
<p>“Like I told your maid, it’s what I can do for you that you’ll want to hear about.” He shot her a smarmy look that made Jessica want to slap him into next week.</p>
<p>At least now she knew why Louisa had let him in. There was something dark in his tone, a little frightening really as if this boy thought he had something on her. Jessica couldn’t imagine what. She needed to find out even though she really didn’t have time for this. Something in her gut said she’d regret it otherwise.</p>
<p>“All right. Come into the office.” She turned on her heel, not waiting to see if he followed. She slide behind her desk. “Surely you realize that this is not a good time.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I know.” He tossed himself into the seat in front of the desk, insolent as a cat. “You see, this whole stupid thing with the college admission has ruined my year. I can’t even get my allowance right now.”</p>
<p>“I don’t see how this is any of my concern,” Jessica said, hoping that both Connor senior and Cricket would spend a little time in prison for the admissions scandal.</p>
<p>“You’ll see. My friend Bentley has some…interesting past times. He helps people find things that interest them. He can find the best girls for parties and all sorts of other entertaining things. He came across a little something but didn’t get the importance of it. He doesn’t know who you are or who your son is but I do. Mom never shuts up about it if you’re at some charity event she doesn’t think you have the right to be at.” He rolled his eyes, and Jessica filed that away for dealing with later.</p>
<p>“This has something to do with Malcolm?”</p>
<p>Connor smiled at her, leaving behind an oily sensation so strong she had to fight the urge to wipe at it. He took out his phone and called something up. “See, this isn’t where just anyone will stumble across easily not with it being on the dark web and all. But I can make it very public unless you pay me not to.”</p>
<p>Jessica nearly dropped her jaw. This little brat was trying to blackmail her? “I don’t understand.” Oh, she understood what he wanted but what was on that phone? She didn’t want to look but Jessica knew she had to. Hell, Connor wasn’t going to leave here until she did.</p>
<p>He held up his phone. She squinted at the video, and what she saw squeezed the very breath out of her. Watching some horrible woman in a leopard skin…what was that? A cat suit with a hood? Watching her beat Malcolm until he was begging would never leave her. Jessica would be able to close her eyes when she was ninety and still see this as vividly as she saw it now on this horrible young man’s phone. </p>
<p>She pressed a hand over her mouth, half to hold in a cry, half to keep what little breakfast she had managed from coming up. Her baby needed her, and she was here, clueless as to wherever this was taken. She couldn’t even guess where Malcolm might be. She couldn’t help him. When he was little and hurt himself, she had always helped Martin take care of Malcolm. She kissed his skinned knees and rocked him when he cried. Jessica wanted to hold him now, rock him until he was better but nothing was going to make this better. And Cricket’s little jackass of a son sat across from her, showing her this horribly video like it was the best thing he’d ever seen judging by the glee on his face or was that strictly because he was imagining the payday he was about to receive?</p>
<p>“So, I’m sure you don’t want all your society frenemies seeing this. My Mom would have a field day.” Connor chuckled, the sick little bastard. Jessica  almost wished she had Martin’s lack of empathy or wished she didn’t have a vision of herself driving her letter opener into Connor’s eye.  “I just bet you can put a price tag on this for me and Bentley.”</p>
<p>“Is this the only one?” Jessica didn’t want to know but she had to. <i>This</i> was what Gil and his team had been hiding from her. They hadn’t wanted her to know about these videos. It’s how they knew Malcolm was alive but hadn’t wanted to share it with her. She could hardly blame them. </p>
<p>“We can talk about that when we talk about price.”</p>
<p>“I need some air. You sit here and don’t touch anything. I’ll be right back.” She stabbed a finger at him – half wishing it were that letter opener – and she strode out into the hall trying not to show how shaken she was.</p>
<p>She took her own phone out of her pantsuit’s pocket and texted Gil. <i>Someone’s here trying to sell me video of Malcolm. Might know more. Come quick.</i> He almost immediately responded with <i>Stay Safe! On our way</i>. Jessica turned on the recording app. She returned the phone to her pocket, hoping the lines of it didn’t show. She had taken down Watkins and Nicholas when she had to through sheer dumb luck. She didn’t want to have to try to fight off an eighteen-year-old boy if she didn’t have.</p>
<p>Jessica  sat back down at her desk. “How do you propose to keep this off the internet where just anyone could see?”</p>
<p>“Do you know much about computers?”</p>
<p>“No, not really, that’s why I’m asking. I had the idea that once something was out there, it was always out there.” She fought to sound nonchalant but the truth of that rattled her.  No matter what happened today, someone somewhere had seen that video of her son and Malcolm would know that. </p>
<p>“I highly doubt I could explain it to you. Shouldn’t you worry more about what it will take to keep me quiet about this?” </p>
<p>“I find it strange a young man like you with a family like yours would be trying to blackmail me.”</p>
<p>Connor snorted. “Blackmail is an ugly word.”</p>
<p>“Do you have a better one?”</p>
<p>“I could just go and let this out of the bag. I’ll start with Mom.”</p>
<p>No, he wouldn’t because he wouldn’t want Cricket to know what he did in his spare time. Still, Jessica raised her hands. She needed to stall for time. “Now, let’s not be hasty, Connor. I was just curious.”</p>
<p>“Mom and Dad have plenty of money but all they give me is a measly two grand a month. How am I supposed to do anything with that?” he scoffed.</p>
<p>At eighteen what did he need that much money for? Jessica knew she was better off not knowing the answer to that. “I can see your conundrum.”  She should have asked Gil if she should keep Connor here and talking. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t just run him down later. She had no idea how long it would take to get someone here. Would it be Gil and his team? Would it be some patrol man? Oh, wouldn’t the neighbors love that? Of course, they were already angry with her for having all the reporters hanging around again.  </p>
<p>“I’m not sure what kind of money I can get for you, Connor. I do have quite a bit tied up in my daughter’s legal fund at the moment, and as you know, my son is missing. He isn’t there making videos like that because he wants to. Did you think about turning it in to the police?”</p>
<p>He scowled at her. “What is wrong with you? Of course not. How would that get me any money and you better not turn this video in either. They’ll just make it public knowledge.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think that’s how it works but I can see your point. Turning it in wouldn’t help your case but right now I have the rest of my ready cash being reserved for private search teams to find Malcolm. I’d buy that video from you just for that reason. They might be able to use it to find some clue.”</p>
<p>“I could care less about that. The more videos they make with him, the more you’d be willing to pay me to get them off the web.” He slapped her desk. “So, let’s talk numbers. I don’t care about what money you’ve got going to whoever.”</p>
<p>“And I’m sure I don’t care for your tone, Connor. Surely Cricket taught you better.”</p>
<p>He made a derisive noise. “You can bring up Mom all you want but it’s not going to change my price.”</p>
<p>“Let’s hear it then.”</p>
<p>Jessica suppressed the urge to throttle him as they haggled over what he expected her to pay monthly. A lump sum just wouldn’t do because of course it wouldn’t. He planned to drag it out forever because waiting on his trust fund allowance was too much to ask of the spoiled brat. Her children might have a serial killer for a father but at least they’d been raised to be better people than this boy. Jessica thought she heard footsteps in the hall but it didn’t catch Connor’s attention, at least not until Gil and Detective Tarmel appeared in the doorway with that awful woman from the FBI. Jessica hated that she had to rely on Special Agent Swanson for anything. Malcolm had never told her much about his FBI days but there were a few times he had cried to her about his conflicts with this woman.</p>
<p>Connor glanced over his shoulder at them and turned back to Jessica. “One of your charities? Mom said you just give because you want people to think you’re better than you are.”</p>
<p>Jessica thinned her lips. “No, you obnoxious brat, they’re NYPD and FBI.”</p>
<p>He shot her a baffled look. “What?”</p>
<p>“You’re trying to sell me illegally made torture tapes of a kidnap victim. Surely you had to know that wasn’t legal, let alone the fact you were trying to extort me.”</p>
<p>“You can’t prove that.”</p>
<p>Jessica took her phone out of her pocket. “I’ve been recording everything.” She stood and handed her phone to Gil. “I’m sure you’ll need that.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Jess. Actually, Special Agent Swanson’s team will be taking point on this. We’re just here to assist them, and I wanted to be sure you’re all right.”</p>
<p>She pushed her hair back off her face. “I’m fine. I was just about to head to the station to see if you needed more help with the files when he showed up. Connor said he got the records from his friend Bentley. He probably means Bentley Dunbar.”</p>
<p>“You can’t tell them that,” Connor screamed at her.</p>
<p>“She can tell us anything she likes. Stand up and make this easy,” JT said.</p>
<p>“You’re under arrest. We’ll give you the list of charges once we have you back at the station,” Colette said. “It might go a long way to helping your own case if you tell us where to find Bentley Dunbar.”</p>
<p>“I’m not saying a thing.”</p>
<p>“The Dunbars live in Central Park West.  I can give you the address,” Jessica said.</p>
<p>“You bitch.”</p>
<p>“Hey none of that,” JT said, tightening the cuffs on Connor.</p>
<p>Jessica watched them take Connor out of her office, kicking and screaming. Gil stayed with her. Once Connor was out of sight, she sagged against the desk.</p>
<p>Gil put a hand on her back. “Jess, are you okay?”</p>
<p>“You knew about the videos. You didn’t tell me!” She said, not able to look Gil in the eye.</p>
<p>“How could I tell you about them? They’re horrible, and you didn’t need that in your head, Jess. I was trying to protect you from that pain.”</p>
<p>“She was whipping my boy,” she said, her teeth starting to chatter. </p>
<p>Gil gathered her in his arms, tucking his chin over her head. “I’m so sorry. I wanted….”</p>
<p>She embraced him hard. “I know. I can’t unsee it.”</p>
<p>“Neither can any of us. I wanted to spare you this, Jess.”</p>
<p>She ran a hand over his thick hair. “I know. You didn’t do this. That little….” She gritted her teeth trying not to say what she really thought. She gave her head a little shake. “What happens now, Gil?”</p>
<p>“Maybe we can get something out the little shit and his buddy.” Gil’s harsh tones and words matched the viciousness in his eyes. This was not a side of him she had seen often. He’d been pushed too far.</p>
<p>“He made it sound like Bentley was somehow involved.”</p>
<p>“If we’re very lucky he is. A high society boy like that, he’d probably flip easily if he thought it would keep him out of prison. I’m glad you called, Jess.”</p>
<p>“I learned my lesson the last time someone tried to blackmail me,” she said bitterly. Not before someone had been murdered in front of her, not before her son had to stab his father to get her out of the mess. To his credit, Gil said nothing.</p>
<p>“Do you want to come to the station now, Jess? Look at the names again.”</p>
<p>She nodded. It was all she could do beyond hope that this would take them one step closer to finding Malcolm.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, Gil and the team are on 'tv time.'  It's highly unlikely they could have gotten from the station to Jess's quickly so let's just say she stalled for time very well.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Panic Attack</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter continues details of someone having a panic attack.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Eighteen – Panic Attack</p>
<p>The smell of the meal that had been left next to his blanket lured him over. He had never eaten anything in a McDonald’s bag in his life, not even in college.  He wanted to eat everything in that bag because he’d not seen food since the sad bowl of soup. He was never much on food but he could feel the toll not eating in so long was taking on his body. The water bottle that sat next to it was opened.</p>
<p>It was drugged. He knew it. It was possible whatever food was in the bag was too. He needed the water more than the food. He was used to going without a meal but he was getting to the point where water was necessary. If he drank, he’d sleep again. If he slept, he’d end up in god knows what sort of horrible situation.</p>
<p>He needed the water. He’d had another couple of seizures in the last few hours from the withdrawal. Water wouldn’t stop that, though Rohypnol was a benzo so it might be close enough to his own medications chemically which might at least stop his seizing.</p>
<p>But they put so much of the drugs in the water. He would end up helpless <i>again</i>. Malcolm couldn’t help wonder what they did to his body when he was out. Did they just leave him lying there or were there people watching someone violating his motionless form? Malcolm knew for a fact there was a market for that.</p>
<p>Eyeing the offering of water and food made him shake. Fear crept up his spine, leaving him twitching. Sweat trickled down his body in spite of the chill in the basement. Malcolm crawled back away from the meal, eying it as if it could come after him. His throat and mouth turned into the Sahara, making him want the water more. </p>
<p>A series of leather belts tightened around his chest – or at least that’s what it felt like – robbing him of breath. His heart pounded, and as he scrambled toward his bucket, Malcolm’s heart skipped a beat or three. He glanced back at the water bottle and his heart rate jacked up so high, the room spun. His head floated away and his gut clenched. Malcolm vomited a thin streamer of mucus and green-black bile into the bucket of piss. </p>
<p>The smell of it made things worse. His stomach compressed so hard and violently, he swore it rubbed his spine. Malcolm couldn’t stop the dry retching, bringing up more mucus and bile. He collapsed to his side, the panic eating at him. He fought to calm himself.  <i>Breathe and breathe again</i>, he thought, remembering one of the mantras Dr. Le Deux had taught him. <i>Breathe and breathe again</i>. </p>
<p>Malcolm tried to articulate the words but he actually couldn’t breathe, let alone breathe again. He lay on the filthy floor gasping and his hand shaking so hard it hurt. He’d been brought to his knees by a bottle of water. Could anything be more humiliating? </p>
<p>
  <i>Of course there could. That’s what you’re really afraid of. You’re afraid of what they do when you’re unconscious. You don’t want to imagine someone getting off on your pain but you know someone is. You <b>know</b> it because Shelby has thrown it in your face. You have to pull it together, Bright. You are running out of time.  Maybe drink just enough water to keep you going, take in less of the roofies? But what’s enough to keep me from seizing and having delusions from withdrawal but not putting me straight out?</i>
</p>
<p>He had no answer to that. He glanced around, his breathing slowing a little. Malcolm didn’t see his father anywhere with a helpful answer from his own subconscious that would usually make him think things through more thoroughly. His subconscious was a jerk. Malcolm still said it could give him someone better than his father as his internal guide.</p>
<p>As the roar of blood in his ears slowly died down, he crawled away from the gross bucket. He hoped Shelby would send someone to empty it soon because the stink might make him vomit more. Maybe if he could get enough energy up, he could try to explore the basement better. Every part of him hurt though. He didn’t know if he could do it and if he found the hidden cameras he was sure had to be there, what then? If he destroyed them, Shelby would have him beaten harder and then buy a new camera. If she saw him on the camera away from his blanket, she’d probably send someone to beat him for that too. </p>
<p>As he sat his bare backside down in front of the food, he heard footsteps nearing the door. Shelby opened it and came down the steps. She scowled at him and Malcolm was torn between shielding his nakedness from her or just staying as he was and make her look at him. He opted for the latter because he didn’t want to put the greasy food bag over his groin.</p>
<p>“Are you done panting and freaking out, Whitly?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” he grated out.</p>
<p>“Oh really? That’s not what it looked like. If you’re going to lose it, I’ll need to bring down a better camera.” She smirked but she also answered his question. There were definitely hidden cameras here.</p>
<p>“I told you. I’m in withdrawal. You’re lucky I’m still alive.”</p>
<p>“No, you’re lucky. It doesn’t matter to me much one way or the other. Sure, I’ll be out a few thousand if you die but whatever.” She shrugged. “Eat your dinner.”</p>
<p>“I’m not hungry. All I can smell is that bucket.” He gestured back to the bucket and then winced as a wound on his shoulder from the caning opened up. Blood trickled down his back.</p>
<p>“Whine and you’ll wear that bucket.”</p>
<p>Malcolm frowned, fairly sure that wasn’t an idle threat. He opened the bag and took out a carton of chicken nuggets. He sniffed one. “I’ve never had these.”</p>
<p>“They’re not poisonous. Just eat, Malcolm.”</p>
<p>He put one in his mouth and nearly spat it back out. How in the hell did JT eat these things? “This is awful.”</p>
<p>“You’re supposed to put it in the dipping sauces, I think. What do I know? It’s not like I’d eat that garbage.”</p>
<p>Sure, enough there was a couple of packets of something labeled barbeque. Malcolm dunked the next ‘nugget’ into it. At least the tang helped some but his stomach roiled in protest. He hoped he wasn’t vomiting this horror back up in a few minutes. It was bad enough going down. He couldn’t imagine it coming back up.</p>
<p>“What comes next?”</p>
<p>“For you, nothing good.”</p>
<p>Malcolm shook his head and sipped the drugged water. “For you, what comes next for you? My friends are searching for me. They’re coming for you, you know.”</p>
<p>Shelby snorted. “As if you have friends.  You have never had a friend in your life.”</p>
<p>“Not true. I had plenty of friends once. Even in boarding school I had a friend or two, just not your brother.” Malcolm broke the nugget into a smaller piece and swallowed it like a pill without tasting it much. <i>Much better!</i> He continued to break it apart, dip and swallow, getting it on his tongue as little as possible. “I have friends. They’ll be looking for me.”</p>
<p>“What? You think the FBI is coming to find you? They don’t care. The NYPD? It’s in a shambles, thanks to what you did to Endicott.” She nudged him with a toe. </p>
<p>Malcolm wanted to grab for her but he could already feel the combination of his panic attack, withdrawal, starvation, and a fresh hit of drugs affecting him. He doubted he’d do more than startle her, and she might impale him with a high heel much like his mother had done to his TV. “I know my team, Shelby. They <i>will</i> find me. You’d be better served by just letting me go free and running for the border. Go someplace with no extradition treaty. I know you have money enough to do that easily. I’m shocked your brother didn’t think of it. He always had a well-developed sense of survival.”</p>
<p>“They closed in on him too fast,” she said with a shrug. “They haven’t figured out I’m part of the organization.”</p>
<p>“Yet. When you took me, they went digging. I guarantee it.” He didn’t want to alert her to putting the videos out in to the world was a mistake. If there was any kind of metadata or clues on the videos and his team found them, which was a long shot he had to admit, but not if she was involved in trafficking, porn, and torture porn. That would get the FBI’s attention. They might not know where she was but someone might recognize him. They would file a report and as humiliating as it might be to have former and current coworkers seeing him being whipped or wrapped up naked in plastic wrap was, if it led to a clue, Malcolm could live with it.</p>
<p>She curled her lip at him. “Are you saying I should just bury you again without the oxygen hose this time?”</p>
<p>He nearly flew right back into a panic attack. “No! I’m saying run for it and leave me behind. One way or the other you’re going to have to leave. You should make it now.”</p>
<p>Shelby turned on heel and stalked toward the stairs. She paused halfway up and looked back at him. “Or I could run and take you with me, Whitly. I never imagined how much fun this would be. You’ll fit nicely into a steamer trunk, just remember that.”</p>
<p>Once she was gone, there was nothing else Malcolm could think of but being like Sophie, like any of his father’s victims in a trunk. He threw up the nuggets in the bucket after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Grief</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This does contain graphic descriptions of a beating.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Nineteen – Grief</p>
<p>Dani watched the video of Malcolm in plastic wrap for the fourth time. She had no idea why. There was nothing in it they could use to help find him. It was a featureless room. His face was completely obscured by red plastic wrap and an oxygen mask. He couldn’t move and he appeared naked under all the layers of plastic. How that helped her, Dani couldn’t say. </p>
<p>No, she could. It was the last clue they had that he was even alive and it had been almost another full day. They weren’t any closer. They had run down a few more leads from the files for other people besides Shelby Hayes. Garcia herself had accompanied Dani and Colette to talk to Shelby and John’s parents. Mrs. Hayes had been in a valium-vodka walking coma. Her husband did nothing but hurl insults at them. If they knew what their son had been up to, they hid it well but they were unpleasant enough to make Dani wish she had enough to arrest them for something.</p>
<p>Yesterday Dani had stopped back at Bright’s home and let herself in with Gil’s spare key. She had told him she’d forgotten something for Sunshine. Gil was too distracted to care, not that he was likely to give a damn even if he wasn’t. She did grab more feed and treats for the bird while she was there but what she was after had been in Bright’s closet. She’d helped herself to one of his ties.</p>
<p>Now at her desk, she pulled it out of her pocket and held the soft silk to her nose. The scent of woods and lavender mingled with citrus tickled her nose. She didn’t know if it was Bright’s cologne or aftershave, not that it mattered. It was his scent, and she found she needed it as a touchstone, even as it faded some with each time she took the tie out of her pocket. </p>
<p>Grief overwhelmed her, and Dani tucked the tie away. She wasn’t going to cry and ruin the silk. She wasn’t going to cry and make the others worry but the grief was sharp as a blade. Nothing had panned out. She was beginning to think that Hayes was a dead end. They still had many more properties to go but so far other than the bodies in the farm house there wasn’t anything to move the case forward. Shelby Hayes was in the wind and her parents swore that house had been abandoned for years. It was a forgotten place owned by people who had so many properties and so much money they couldn’t keep track of it all. </p>
<p>Dani wanted to dismiss that claim but she also remembered Mrs. Whitly lamenting to her and JT about money managers when it turned out some phone in her husband’s basement study hadn’t been cut off two decades before. The Hayeses seemed to be in that class, where others handled their money and they just basked in their wealth. They claimed the dead people must have been squatters, and so far the local sheriff and the FBI hadn’t been able to prove otherwise. So many people went missing every year that combing the data banks for dental records wasn’t easy to do, nor was it quick. They were still waiting to hear back on the hardware found in the ankle of one of the burn victims. </p>
<p>None of this was helping to find Bright. All they knew was he wasn’t in that farmhouse or any of the other ruled out locations. They hadn’t seen a new video in several hours. Did that mean his kidnapper had tired of him and sold him on? Had they accidentally killed him? If they had, Dani wouldn’t be surprise if that video made its way to the dark web. A true snuff film would surely be worth money.</p>
<p>“Powell.” </p>
<p>JT’s voice made her jump. Dani looked up from her desk into his weary face. “Something new?” she asked, partially hopeful, partially dreading it.</p>
<p>“We caught up with Bentley Dunbar. Literally pissed himself when the FBI hauled him in. Swanson is ready to spit nails about that.” A hint of amusement flickered like a dying light in his eyes. “She isn’t about to let us in that interview with her and Cordova.”</p>
<p>Dani grimaced and for Bright’s sake, she hoped Colette and Cordova were better interviewers than she thought they’d be. She wanted to be in the room with either Bentley or Connor but she had been sat down by both the FBI and Garcia who wanted to keep them happy and helpful. Dani knew it was a good call because right now she wanted to rip the answers out of them, straight through their bellybuttons if need be.  Her head was too clouded with fear and grief. She wanted to put it aside but there was only so much she could do. She was only human.</p>
<p>“Do you think they actually know anything?” JT asked.</p>
<p>Dani shook her head. “Mrs. Whitly said they’re both little idiots. Bentley was probably showboating for his crowd, putting on the tough guy persona. Who knows how he actually stumbled over this stuff.” She rolled her shoulders. “On the other hand, she said she wouldn’t have thought Shelby and John Hayes were into human trafficking so she could have underestimated these two as well.”</p>
<p>“That was both brave and crazy of her to try to record him while he was busy blackmailing her. Guess that’s where Bright gets it.”</p>
<p>Dani snorted. “I think a strong vein of impulse control issues runs in that family but you’re right, it was both those things. If nothing else, they can probably get those charges to stick to Connor. Mrs. Whitly was…I don’t want to say consoling herself with that because it was deeper, more vicious. I get the idea that there is a lot of bad blood between her and Connor’s mother. If it wasn’t Bright at the center of this, Mrs. Whitly would actually be enjoying it I think.”</p>
<p>“JT, Dani,” Gil called from his office door. Mrs. Whitly tried to squirm past him but he pushed her back gently. “Eastlack has something. McClendon has gone to get Swanson.”</p>
<p>“Did he get a hit on the landscape?” JT asked.</p>
<p>“No, another video and no, Jess, you can’t see it. You don’t want to.” Gil said, turning to face her.</p>
<p>Dani saw Mrs. Whitly wanted to protest but Gil wasn’t going to allow for that. Jessica nodded and retreated back into his office. Dani wondered how long that would last. For the other woman’s sake, she hoped Mrs. Whitly stayed where she was. She didn’t need to see what was on this video.</p>
<p>McLendon had rounded up his FBI coworkers and neither woman looked happy. Dani suspected they weren’t getting much out of Bentley or Connor. Dani didn’t want to see this on the big screen in the war room but how could she not be here? Gil gripped the table as if expecting to be crushed to the floor by whatever was on this video. Dani sat next to him but Gil barely looked at her. </p>
<p>JT sat next to her on the other side. She wished they were alone so she could have at least leaned on them a little, emotionally at least. None of them were prepared to see Malcolm on his knees, naked with a collar around his neck. Gil flexed his fingers against the table top, and JT swore under his breath. Dani tucked her arms around herself tightly. She knew nothing good was going to be on the recording and in the back of her mind she suspected it might go this way, turn sexual, but she hadn’t been prepared for the collar.</p>
<p>The woman in the zentai was back only this time it was a shocking pink. “I want you to bark like the dog you are.”</p>
<p>Bright’s look of loathing smoldered on the screen, and he refused to obey until she hit a button on a device she carried. He yelped, twitching.</p>
<p>“Damn, it’s a shock collar,” JT growled.</p>
<p>He wasn’t wrong. No matter how many shocks Zentai Woman delivered, no matter how hard she hit him with a riding crop – each thud making Dani jump – Bright did nothing asked of him. He took the punishment each and every time even as his skin split under the beating and blood ran down his back. Dani wanted to reach through the screen and pull him free of this nightmare.  She pictured in her head everything she was going to do to try and help him once this was all over. It was better than watching the video because the featureless basement would do nothing to help them find Bright. All this did was let them know he was still alive.</p>
<p>“Tell me those little entitled monsters have given you something,” Gil growled to Colette.</p>
<p>“Not enough,” she admitted. “But Dunbar seems to think he knows where one holding cell is. He actually thinks prostitution is a victimless crime. Apparently he’s spent some money on girls in one of the houses, handing it to someone he called Adamos. We’re going to need to run down that name.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do that,” Dani said. “You need to get more out of Dunbar.”</p>
<p>“We’re working on it,” Cordova said. “Dunbar says he can take us there if we let him go.”</p>
<p>“That is a last step,” Collette said quickly. “We might be able to track his phone.”</p>
<p>“You can’t let them off,” Dani growled. “Not until we’ve tried everything else.”</p>
<p>“Trust me, I do not want to. At the very least, you have one of them on extortion and the other has been having sex with trafficked girls. We might not be able to get them on anything to do with where Bright is but we can force these boys to give us what they’ve got without giving them much,” Cordova said.</p>
<p>“Don’t bet on it. They’re rich,” JT said and gestured to the door. “Let me and Dani get on the phone trace and tracking down Adamos if you two want to get back to those idiots. Gil…Mrs. Whitly is here, right?”</p>
<p>Gil nodded. “I’ll go look in on her.” He seemed grateful for something easy to do. Dani knew she was watching him grind down to nothing over this. It was too hard.</p>
<p>They stepped back into the bull pen and there was a middle-aged woman there throwing a fit. Dani narrowed her eyes. She recognized the slender build and curly hair. She’d seen this woman somewhere.</p>
<p>“You can’t just hold my son here! You need to release him now,” she screamed at some uniformed cop.</p>
<p>Dani spotted Mrs. Whitly peering out between the slats of the drawn blinds in Gil’s office but she didn’t come out. Dani didn’t blame her. This woman was something else. She strode over  to her. “Ma’am, you can stop that now. Who is your son?”</p>
<p>“Are you the one who brought in my Connor?” She glared at Dani.</p>
<p>“No ma’am but your son is involved in some dark stuff. The FBI is talking to him now,” Dani said, seeing Captain Garcia heading their way to no doubt help defuse all of this. </p>
<p>“The FBI, what is going on? I need to see him now.”</p>
<p>“Your son is eighteen, ma’am, an adult, and he is being questioned as one,” Dani said. “For extortion to begin with. If you have any more questions, you can talk to our captain.” She gestured to Captain Garcia and stepped out before she lost her own temper. Dani ducked into Gil’s office for a moment. Gil stood in the doorway but stepped aside so she could get in.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” Mrs. Whitly said. “Cricket is never a pleasant person.”</p>
<p>“Ah, that’s where I saw her. She was at that ballet charity thing with you.”</p>
<p>“Not with me but yes. She hates me so I’m very glad you didn’t say who her precious Connor was trying to extort.” Mrs. Whitly sighed and sank down on the couch. Gil sat next to her, putting an arm around her. “She’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>“Will it cause you problems?” Gil asked.</p>
<p>“Nothing I can’t deal with.” Mrs. Whitly looked between Gil and Dani. “It was awful, wasn’t it? I know it is but …even more than you thought it would be.”</p>
<p>Gil nodded and answered, which Dani was grateful for because she couldn’t speak. “It was but he’s still alive, Jess, and that’s what we have to concentrate on. We have some place to look and if we’re very lucky those two idiots will give us more. Dunbar is up to his eyes in this mess. I’m not saying he helped to take Malcolm.”</p>
<p>“No, I doubt that. I don’t know the Dunbars well and Connor said Bentley didn’t even know who Malcolm was,” Jessica said. </p>
<p>“Good to know, thanks,” Dani said. “I’m going to get started on Adamos. Does that name mean anything to you, Mrs. Whitly?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “Sorry not at all.”</p>
<p>“I’ll see what I can find on him.”</p>
<p>Dani clung to that as she settled back at her desk. At least the screaming Cricket was gone, probably to go find her idiot son a lawyer so Dani hoped Colette and Cordova worked quickly before someone smarter than those boys insisted on lawyers.  She pushed the name Adamos to some of her friends in vice. If he were involved in sex workers or drugs, they would know. She started her own trace on him but the computer offered up little.</p>
<p>She’d lost track of time as she worked, startled out of it when a shadow fell across her desk. Dani glanced up to see Colette there. “Adamos isn’t getting me far,” she admitted reluctantly.</p>
<p>Colette’s features puckered up. “I was hoping it would. Cordova and Eastlack did manage to get the info out of Dunbar’s phone, and he slipped up and said one of the homes he visited was in Dutchess county.”</p>
<p>“So was the last one we looked at.” Dani couldn’t keep the burned victims out of her mind.</p>
<p>“Not that one. This is close to Fishkill. He thought the town’s name was funny. Do you have that one your original list?”</p>
<p>Dani made a face and dug through her paperwork. She pulled the file out after a moment. “It’s under John’s name. We haven’t gotten there yet. It could be a possibility.”</p>
<p>“Dunbar’s cell phone put him in the area. I think it’s worth a look.”</p>
<p>“I’ll push the warrant on that. Did he give you any more on who Adamos was?”</p>
<p>Colette shook her head. “I get the idea that he’s highly placed, trying to keep the rich and entitled like Dunbar happy.”</p>
<p>“Hey,” JT called from his desk. “I just found a connection between Dunbar and Hayes. They were on a booze cruise last year where a girl died.”  He pointed to the screen.</p>
<p>Dani shoved her seat back and hurried over.  She scanned the article. The girl’s death had been listed as accidental overdose but sure enough it was on Hayes’s yacht and Bentley Dunbar had been there. “We need to see if any more of his phone hits are anywhere near a Hayes property,” she said.</p>
<p>“I’ll get Cordova on it,” Colette said, and she gave Dani a quick appraisal. “You have a moment?”</p>
<p>Dani gritted her teeth but nodded. She should have known Colette wouldn’t want to talk about much of anything in front of JT. She was getting the idea that it wasn’t just Bright Colette didn’t care for. Some man somewhere had tried to hold her back or at least in Colette’s estimation. Dani sadly had no trouble believing it though. </p>
<p>She followed Colette into the break room which was thankfully empty. “What can I do for you?” Dani asked.</p>
<p>“Nothing, you’re already doing it. I just wanted to see if you were all right. I know you aren’t, of course, but I wanted to be sure it wasn’t…worse than I think,” Colette said, sounding honestly concerned.</p>
<p>Dani held up a hand. “I have lost my friend. I just watched him suffer horribly, and I knew he would because Bright wasn’t going to give them what they wanted. He’s stubborn and you are right about one thing when it comes to him, Colette. He has no regard for his own safety. Some days I think he actually wants to die and on the job is an acceptable form of suicide to him. But then I see him like I just did on that video, defiant in spite of it all, and I know he’s a helluva fighter. He is staying alive, waiting for us to find him or for him to find a way out on his own. I want to believe he can do it if we can’t. So, I guess maybe it is worse than you think.”</p>
<p>“You aren’t any good to him if you are…”</p>
<p>“I know,” Dani interrupted, her voice a harsh croak. “You think I don’t? I’m grieving over what is happening to my friend. I can’t help it. I care about him and it is killing me to see him like that. It’s killing the whole team’s spirit. But we’re going to keep pushing forward because we have to.”</p>
<p>JT slid into the room trying to stop from a dead run. “There’s a huge problem.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“The mouthy lady has gone screeching to the press about wrongful arrests and police brutality but that’s not the issue,” he said. “The house in Fishkill is on fire. Literally ten minutes after her accusations hit the airwaves, the local sheriff called us.”</p>
<p>“Son of a bitch,” Dani slammed her hand into the table. </p>
<p>“Let’s get up there,” Colette said. “To see if there’s anything we can find and we’re going to need more manpower. We can’t keep letting these Hayes properties go up in flames.”</p>
<p>Dani might not like working with this woman but she hoped Collette called in the entire damn calvary.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Presumed Dead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter has some violent crime scene details and gore.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Twenty - Presumed Dead</p>
<p>“This kid can identify you?” Shelby screeched at the man at the top of the stairs. She had been tormenting Malcolm with what she planned to do with him in the future. She thought he was drugged out, not realizing he hadn’t drunk most of the water she’d given him. His body was paying for it now but he’d pretended to drink it over by his pee bucket, letting it drip down his body and into the makeshift toilet. He hadn’t a real plan other than to try and balance his withdrawal with the need to stay clear headed and at least somewhat hydrated.</p>
<p>He'd spotted the man through his barely opened eyelids and was fairly sure he was the man in the nice suit from the car that had recaptured him. He didn’t know who he was but Malcolm listened in while pretending to be unconscious.</p>
<p>“He thinks my name is Adamos.” The man shrugged. “I know he’s been to the Fishkill property.”</p>
<p>“Torch it,” she instructed. “Anywhere else Dunbar knows about?”</p>
<p>“Actually, he knows the property in Vermont. He was up there a couple of times, you know the one I mean. Our mutual former friend owned it. He didn’t realize John had used it as a party place for the girls.”</p>
<p>Shelby snorted. “John was lucky Endicott never found out or he would have died an even earlier, uglier death. I have an idea.”</p>
<p>“I’m listening.”</p>
<p>“They know Whitly’s been taken.”</p>
<p>“I’ve seen the news. All it said was he was missing. They played it like the billionaire heiress’s brat took off.”</p>
<p>Shelby waved him off. “You and I both know they’re holding back. They have to suspect someone kidnapped him. They haven’t found all Endicott’s moles in the department. He contacted me to let me know they’ve found the videos and the FBI is there.”</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Adamos groaned and Malcolm nearly did as well. Shelby knew the FBI was involved so he was now a huge liability. All those things she was telling his ‘unconscious’ self were probably prelude to selling him overseas or killing him. His time was running out. </p>
<p>“Don’t panic yet. They’re clueless. Queen of Hearts has done her job well, those videos aren’t traceable. I’m much more concerned that they have Dunbar in custody. He’s an idiot,” Shelby sniffed. “They’ll be able to track him to any place he’s been like Fishkill and the place in Vermont. John and Endicott are beyond touching but didn’t that little slimeball that used to follow John, kowtowing and toadying to him have an interest in that property?”</p>
<p>“Kevin? Yes.”</p>
<p>“Kevin never knew about me. He thought John orchestrated the whole business. Let’s get them sniffing around Kevin. He doesn’t know much, and what he does know, we can sacrifice.”</p>
<p>Adamos shrugged. “If you say so.”</p>
<p>“Trust me, we’re going to have to burn this all down and start over thanks to Whitly’s interference. But we also need to get some of the heat off of us. It’s time for Malcolm to die,” Shelby grated out, and Malcolm flinched. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t ready to die, lying on these filthy blankets in some old farmhouse basement.</p>
<p>“I’ll get some of the men down here. Do you want us to film him dying?”</p>
<p>“No, you fool. I don’t want him dead for real.”</p>
<p>At that Malcolm did crack open an eye wider. Shelby gestured to him without looking back at him.</p>
<p>“Fucking around with him has been the most fun I’ve had in <i>years</i>. I’m not about to end it. However, they need to <i>think</i> he’s dead.”</p>
<p>“How are you planning to do that?”</p>
<p>“I have the clothing he was wearing when we grabbed him up. He was in a suit still. I caught him just as he came home from work so I have his tie stud and cuff links. Betting his bitch mom knows them because they have precious stones in them. We just need to find a body to substitute for him.”</p>
<p>“I know just the person for that. He’ll enjoy taking off the finger tips and knocking out the teeth.”</p>
<p>Malcolm tried not to shudder but through his barely cracked lids, he noticed it didn’t even faze Shelby. She was easily as cold as his father. Worse even, his father faked empathy rather well.</p>
<p>“Perfect. I know they’ll eventually run the DNA on the remains but it buys us time.” </p>
<p>“We can mess it up a little too, get the body into some acid or something,” Adamos replied with the casual confidence of someone who had dissolved someone in an oil drum of acid before.</p>
<p>Malcolm’s mind whirled. He reevaluated how much trouble he was in. He was already on ‘red alert, I’m likely to die.’ Now it seemed almost inevitable he was going to. No matter that Shelby said she wanted him alive because eventually she was likely to realize she’d have to get rid of him somehow.</p>
<p>“Make it happen at the place in Vermont because I’m sure Dunbar will lead them there on purpose or by mistake, and it needs to happen today.”</p>
<p>“I’m on it.”</p>
<p>Adamos shut the door as he left. Malcolm let his eyelids close all the way and tried to look relaxed. Unconscious people weren’t tense as he was. His only hope at this moment was Shelby enjoyed playing with him. He’d have to find a way to use that to his advantage. Luckily, Shelby disappeared out the other passage locking it behind her. It would give him time to think.</p>
<p>XXX</p>
<p>Gil had to fight to convince Swanson and the others he could go with them to Vermont. He knew this would likely be the last time he’d win the fight. All the sleeplessness and stress was catching up to him. He was still anemic as it was from the injuries Endicott’s man had inflicted on him and the peritonitis he’d developed from the perforated bowel had ebbed his strength. He’d nearly died from the infection. The fact he’d made it this far hinged entirely on the fact Malcolm needed him. His team needed him. Jessica’s faith in him sustained him in this moment.</p>
<p>At least this home in Vermont wasn’t on fire. They had found nothing in Fishkill other than two other burned bodies, which was horrible enough. One was obviously female and the other currently indeterminate. This time Edrisa traveled with them, the sheriff in Vermont happy enough to have help from the city. The home itself could have been on a magazine, unlike the other two which had been average homes. This one had some wealth attached to it. Of course, it did. Endicott had owned it. </p>
<p>“Did Endicott know what was going on here?” was the debated question on the way to Vermont. They all agreed he probably did but none of them were sure he was an active participant. He seemed more like a facilitator and human trafficking might have been too tawdry for him. Still, the depths of his darkness had yet to be fully plumbed. </p>
<p>Gil surprised himself by falling asleep for a little bit in the front seat at JT drove. They all let him rest. Embarrassment over it warred with the knowledge he had needed the cat nap. At least his limbs weren’t shaking with exhaustion when they got out of the car after they parked next to Swanson’s vehicle. A grim faced, whip-thin woman waited for them at the home. This was likely to be Sheriff Brown.</p>
<p>“I’m Special Agent Swanson and this is Special Agent Cordova of the FBI. We spoke on the phone,” Swanson said to the sheriff. She and Cordova had arrived just before Gil’s team and they seemed to have more energy. He didn’t blame them. They weren’t as emotionally invested as his team. Even Edrisa had been quiet on the trip as if, for once, realizing she didn’t have to fill every silence.</p>
<p>“I’m Allyson Brown, and I’m glad to see you. You said you were bringing your own medical examiner.”</p>
<p>“That’s me.” Edrisa raised her hand. “I’m Doctor Tanaka.”</p>
<p>Allyson’s shoulders slumped. “Good. Vermont barely has more than a dozen medical examiners for the whole state and the nearest one isn’t close. I’m happy to have some help. When we were securing the home as per your request, we found a body.”</p>
<p>Gil’s breath caught. Dani stiffened next to him and JT glowered at Brown. “Just one?” Gil asked.</p>
<p>“So far but Special Agent Swanson had asked us not to interfere with the place until you go here. Like I said, I’m happy for the help. I don’t get much in the way of violent crime out here. Mostly burglaries and drunk and disorderlies. This is way worse. The smell is…” She shook her head, going paler.</p>
<p>“Take us there,” Cordova said, and Brown waved them on. </p>
<p>Edrisa grabbed her bag out of the trunk of JT’s car and hurried after them. The team followed. They were led into yet another basement. The acrid stench of some chemical mixed with the pungent odors of death, bowel, and bladder. Someone had made a ‘keg pool’ out of keg sawed in half and a body rested in the two parts which had been pressed together lengthwise.</p>
<p>“Smells like acid,” Edrisa said, fanning her nose. “Looks like someone made an attempt to dissolve him in hydrochloric or battery acid. It’s much harder than people think it would be.”</p>
<p>“We should be able to trace acid sales, right?” JT pointed to the body in the keg. “That’s a helluva lot of acid.”</p>
<p>Edrisa nodded. “We can certainly try.” </p>
<p>She pulled on her nitrile gloves – lavender this time – and gently pulled on the victim’s brown hair, tilting the man’s face back. Someone had pounded on the victim hard. No teeth remained in his mouth and if Bright’s telltale scar on his upper lip was there, they would never be able to  tell.  If he had Bright’s blue eyes, even clouded by death, they had no way of knowing. The eyes had been pounded to a sickening mush. This man’s mother wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Heedless of her audience, Edrisa slowly worked down the man’s arms, poking and prodding until she pulled a hand out. No finger tips were left.</p>
<p>The sight gutted Gil all over again. JT’s knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists and Dani turned her face away. If this were Bright, they would have to wait for Edrisa to harvest blood or deeper tissues that the acid hadn’t worked on. </p>
<p>“I’m going to need a bag and someone to help me move him into it,” she said. “I wonder where they took the fingers and teeth off too. Any chance they might have gotten sloppy and tried to toss or flush them on property?”</p>
<p>“We can look,” Swanson said. “Brown, has the state crime scene unit made it here yet? They could assist Dr. Tanaka.”</p>
<p>“I’ll check. We haven’t searched the basement if you all want to get that started.”</p>
<p>“We do,” Dani answered for Swanson who didn’t gainsay her.</p>
<p>As Brown assigned some officers to help Edrisa transfer the man into a body bag the rest of them began the search. Gil tried not to think about the fact that the man in the acid bath was roughly Malcolm’s size. He found something disturbing in the corner he chose to investigate and put crime scene number tags down. Built in shackles were never a good sign.</p>
<p>“Gil, I can’t tell if this man has an abdominal scar. The acid has done a number on the surface of his skin. I’ll have to get the area I know is scarred on Bright under a microscope later,” Edrisa said, dragging his attention her way.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Edrisa.”</p>
<p>“I have something,” JT called. </p>
<p>Dani and Gil descended on him like ravens. Swanson and Cordova kept up their search. </p>
<p>“What is it?” Gil demanded to know.</p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure this is the suit Bright had on when we last saw him.” JT pointed to a cabinet on the wall that he’d opened. Sure, enough inside was a charcoal suit with a cerulean shirt. Malcolm had been dressed in. Gil felt sure of it.</p>
<p>“We could be wrong.” Dani glanced back at the man in nothing but underpants being wrestled into a body bag. “That’s not, Bright.”</p>
<p>“If the evidence says it is,” Swanson started to say but Dani swept a hand up silencing her.</p>
<p>“It’s not him.”</p>
<p>Gil wanted to agree with her but then he spotted it. In the cabinet next to the clothing were two sapphire cuff links that matched the sapphire and diamond tie pin. They were art deco, and he’d seen them before. They were family heirlooms that he was always shocked to see Malcolm wear to work. No matter how many times Gil told him it wasn’t the place for a fashion show, that he should just get cheap suits he didn’t care that got blood soaked into them, Malcolm always showed up as if he were dressed for a GQ photo shoot.</p>
<p>He picked up the jewelry, weighing it in his palms as he forgot how breathing worked. Gil’s hand trembled liked Malcolm’s often did. This was the proof they needed.</p>
<p>“Gil, what’s wrong?” Dani put a hand on his arm.</p>
<p>“These are Malcolm’s. I’d know them anywhere,” he said softly.</p>
<p>“No!” Dani and Edrisa cried in one voice.</p>
<p>Swanson seemed to manifest at his side. She held out an evidence bag. “I’m sorry,” she said and surprisingly he believed her. “We have to presume Malcolm Bright is dead.”</p>
<p>Gil shook his head. “I’m not going there.”</p>
<p>“The evidence is in your hand,” She said.</p>
<p>“Yes, but why? These are human traffickers, anything for a buck. I’m holding about six grand in antique jewelry. No way they leave this behind unless they want us to think Malcolm is dead,” Gil argued.</p>
<p>Swanson pursed her lips and nodded.</p>
<p>“Gil’s right,” Dani said. “That is not Malcolm. They’re trying to distract us.”</p>
<p>“Almost worked,” JT said. </p>
<p>“Of course, John Hayes was very wealthy. He was running this for…fun?” Cordova suggested. “Those jewels might not have been worth it to him.”</p>
<p>“True but he’s dead and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have done this on his own,” JT said. “The people who’d do this sort of thing would be the type to take the cuff links and sell them for whatever they can get.”</p>
<p>“We won’t know if you’re right until Dr. Tanaka does her exam and gets back the DNA results,” Swanson said. </p>
<p>“In the meantime, let’s put it out there that Malcolm Bright has been potentially found. Let them think we’ve taken the bait,” Gil said. “I’ll speak to Jessica, to let her know what we’ve found and what we think. We’ll need her to go along with this.”</p>
<p>“That’s a good plan,” Swanson agreed.  “But let’s finish collecting the evidence before we do anything. We found what they wanted us to but maybe they’ve left something behind they didn’t mean to.”</p>
<p>Gil nodded, surrendering the jewelry. His son wasn’t dead. He didn’t care what anyone wanted him to believe. Malcolm wasn’t dead.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. withdrawal/drugged</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note: I have been doing these in order up to this point. The prompt for day 21 wouldn’t make much sense if I tackled it now and then continued on with the other prompts (as prompt 21 is of a medical nature that would take Malcolm out of commission too early in the game) So I moved it down the list and everything else up one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Twenty-One: withdrawal/drugged </p><p> </p><p>Malcolm curled up on his blanket rocking back and forth as he rubbed his thighs. The muscle spasms half convinced him his quadriceps were strong enough to snap his femurs. Sweating and panting, he wanted to beg Shelby for water just because he knew it would be filled with Rohypnol. It would take the edge off his cravings. He <i>needed</i> his benzos. This was hell. His whole body hurt more than normal. Was it more withdrawal symptoms or had they done something to him while he was out? Why did his brain keep going there? Because it would make for good video for the rape fantasists out there and he knew it.</p><p>Malcolm glanced up as footsteps sounded softly in the basement. His father loomed over him like some curly haired hybrid of cherub and gargoyle. The look of abject disappointment knifed Malcolm straight in the gut hurting almost as much as Watkins’s blade had.</p><p>“Look at you.” His father squatted down. “I never would have thought my son was a common junkie.”</p><p>“I’m not a junkie. My medications are for real problems,” he snarled. “Problems you caused.”</p><p>His father blew a raspberry, raising out of his squat. “I really am the bogey man to you, aren’t I? I’m the root of all your problems. I’m such a convenient scapegoat, my boy. Maybe you ought to look at yourself with that keen power of observation you use on your suspects. Or is it that you won’t like what you’d see?”</p><p>Malcolm frowned, trying to determine how his father was here in the first place, let alone yelling at him. <i>He’s a delusion. You’re already prone to hallucinations. You <b>know</b> this is a delusion because you’ve been having them. That you’re forgetting that is terrifying. You’re getting further and further from reality</i>. “Of course, I am,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m talking about myself in the second person.”</p><p>“What was that, son?”</p><p>“I blame you because <i>you’re</i> to blame. Do you know how many times I was beaten up in school thanks to you?”</p><p>“Did it ever occur to you to fight back and put an end to it?” His father raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Of course, it did but then I’d be as violent as you. I didn’t want that.”</p><p>“So, you took the beatings and blame me, sounds fair.” He followed that up with an eyeroll. “Am I the reason you’ve been having seizures off and on?” He squinted, closing the distance between them. “Are you actually digging into your own skin?”</p><p>Malcolm tried to hide the excoriations on his leg with his hand. “The brain has involuntary reactions to the sensations of something crawling on the skin.”</p><p>“Are you trying to pretty up the common junkie claim of ‘there are bugs on me’?” His father made a derisive noise.</p><p>“No,” Malcolm snapped when he and his hallucination both knew he meant yes. He was scratching himself because the withdrawal made him feel like he was covered in bugs. “And at least three times there was a roach or a spider on me so it’s not all in my head, not like you are.”</p><p>“Have you ever given any thought as to why you almost always hallucinate me?” The smug look on his father’s face drew Malcolm up into a seated position because he wanted to launch himself at the man and wipe that look away. Pointless, of course, since this was taking place entirely inside his battered brain.</p><p>“Not always. I’ve hallucinated Gil and Dani just the other day. The Girl in the Box was a long-term hallucination. I guess knowing Sophie is actually alive has fixed that one. Now Eve has taken her place. I’ve seen Dr. Le Deux before as well and even myself.”</p><p>His father’s brow knitted. “That you hallucinate this much isn’t a good sign, Malcolm. You surely mean some of this is before you ended up in this basement. And I’m the one who’s locked up in a mental hospital. It sounds like you could use a nice quiet padded room yourself.”</p><p>Malcolm scowled at him. “I’m not crazy. Most of the hallucinations came from outside forces, like inhaling a huge amount of drugs when the box exploded or being stabbed and left for dead in Mother’s basement, in that hidden room, you know the one.”</p><p>“Guess that’s my fault too.”</p><p>“Watkins was <i>your</i> serial killing buddy so yes it is.”  Of course, seeing himself as a dead child hadn’t come from withdrawal or drugs or night terrors. That was the one that had frightened Malcolm the most, even more than seeing himself in his father’s cardigan. The cardigan had been his pharmaceutically aided subconscious owning him. He had something of a psychotic break after learning his father planned to murder him. That was the only thing that accounted for seeing himself as a child. Hell, he’d had a conversation with his hallucinatory ten-year-old self just like he was now with his father.</p><p>“Have you stopped worrying about your next hit of benzos long enough to come up with a plan?”</p><p>The way his father asked that, the disappointed, resigned tone of voice hurt more than the shock collar around his throat. Worthlessness settled over him heavier and dirtier than the blankets he sat on. It never failed to amaze him what simple words could do to heal and to harm. His father treating him like an addict kicked the pins out from under him and Malcolm went into free fall. He’d slam into the darkness that was depression soon enough.</p><p>“I’m getting too sick to escape.”</p><p>“Set that defeatist attitude aside, son. That’s not the Whitly way. You need to figure out how to get out of here. Don’t even worry about that shock collar. You can fight that pain off. That’s just there for the sick home videos your new girlfriend is making. It doesn’t have much of a range anyhow. Once you get out of this basement, just keep running. You’ll be able to get out of range fast.”</p><p>“If I can run. I’m not sure I can,” he said. “And she’s not my anything.”</p><p>“Are you sure? She certain has taken a liking to you.”</p><p>Not in any good way, Malcolm thought bitterly as the door to his basement cell opened. Shelby came downstairs. She didn’t have any water bottles with her, and he groaned in disappointment. She had found a broom handle somewhere, not that he wanted to know why she had it with her.</p><p>“Who the hell are you talking to?” she asked, glancing around as if she could see his delusions.</p><p>“Myself,” he said, wondering if this was wired for sound as well as video. “I need my medication, Shelby.”</p><p>“I can see that. You’re twitchy as fuck. You know you’re not getting whatever it is you’re on. Is it really medicine or are you like half our social circle and jamming mommy and daddy’s fortune up your nose or into a vein?” She prodded him with one end of the broom handle. </p><p>“I’m not a junkie,” he said because that had overtones of both judgement and illegality. He was a legal addict as if that made much difference. It made none to his freaking out brain.</p><p>“Of course, you’re not. Know what else you are?” Shelby smiled at him. “Dead. It’s all over the news. They think they found you dead in Vermont.”</p><p>“They won’t believe it for long.”</p><p>“I don’t need them to. I just need them to be in Vermont for a while, chasing down Kevin while I make travel plans for us,” she replied.</p><p>He noticed she made no mention of selling him. She had thought she’d get bored with him fast but that hadn’t happened. Shelby had found what turned her on and in the process she had become that much more dangerous, not just to him but whoever came after him.  “Who did you have murdered to pretend he was me?”</p><p>She waved him off. “I had nothing to do with that. Adamos handed that but there are no end of whores in this business. No one cares about them. No one will miss whoever it was.”</p><p>“You’re wrong,” he said, even though he had no proof of that. It wasn’t true, however, that sex workers had no one. Certainly, some didn’t have a soul who cared, but others had parents, siblings and children who might miss them. Some of the sex workers, if not all of them, that Shelby and her brother had in their employ were kidnap victims or otherwise lured into the trade.</p><p>“Does it really matter if I am?” She prodded him again in the belly, rocking him back.</p><p>Malcolm wanted to grab the broom handle but wasn’t sure he could get it away from her. His legs, fresh from their muscle spasms weren’t likely to carry him out of here. He didn’t want to get hurt more before he made an attempt to run for it. One broken leg and his chance of getting out of here was done for.</p><p>“I guess it doesn’t.” Malcolm flicked his tongue over his parched lips but since it was dried out too, it was more like rasping them with sand paper. “May I have water?”</p><p>“Will it keep you from talking to yourself?”</p><p>“Probably.”</p><p>She shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do. And Whitly, you better hope your team does believe you’re dead. If they don’t back off, others in my business might not be content to let them live.”</p><p>“I have no control over that,” he said. They wouldn’t stop. They knew that retaliation was a possibility. But they weren’t going to stop looking for him. They wanted him back. No one would stop them short of killing them and Malcolm liked their chances in a fight. All things he had no intention of telling Shelby.</p><p>“That’s why I said you should hope they buy into your death.”</p><p>With that she left the basement and Malcolm waited under his father’s watchful eye, hoping the water would get to him before the depression did.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Exhaustion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Twenty-Two - Exhaustion </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gil didn’t want to be at Claremont but it was necessary. Someone had to impress upon Whitly that he couldn’t keep calling Jessica at home. If he knew that it was very likely the body in the Vermont home wasn’t Malcolm, maybe Whitly would stop calling her. If nothing else, Whitly did seem concerned about his son, which had taken Gil by surprise when he witnessed the panic attack after he told Whitly about Watkins.</p>
<p>Whitly waited for him at the red line, fussing with his handcuffs as if to test how well Mr. David had fastened them to his waist restraint. Gil could imagine Whitly fantasizing about breaking free. God help whoever had kidnapped Malcolm if Whitly managed it. He had dug out Eddie’s eyes just for killing Eve and making Malcolm mourn. What would he do to the person who was hurting and humiliating his son?</p>
<p>“Well, did you manage to get my son killed this time?” Whitly snarled.</p>
<p>“Malcolm wasn’t on a case. He was taken from his own home,” Gil said. “And he’s not dead. We’re letting the person who has him think we bought into the tableau they left for us. I probably shouldn’t be telling you that but it’s not as if you can call a press conference. You need to leave Jessica alone.”</p>
<p>“And who are you to tell me that?” Whitly strained against his tether, making Mr. David take a step toward him.</p>
<p>Gil wouldn’t mind if Whitly did act out. If he got his ass slammed back in solitary, it was one less thing Gil would have to worry about. “She’s barely holding it together. When you call and rant about Malcolm being gone, she doesn’t dare mention that we don’t think Malcolm is dead. Who knows who might be listening in. Servants can be bought. One son from a prominent family already tried to blackmail her. She doesn’t need you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gil winced. He had slipped up. He should never have let out the fact about Connor. He was too damn tired. His mind wasn’t firing on all cylinders. </p>
<p>Whitly caught the slip, naturally. He was quick witted and observant by nature. “What? Blackmail her with what?”</p>
<p>“The kidnapper leaked a video of what they’re doing to Malcolm,” he replied because the blackmail comment was already out there. He hoped to hell Mr. David could be trusted. “On the dark web.” </p>
<p>Whitly’s jaw clenched and fury raced through him. “What are they doing?”</p>
<p>“I can’t tell you that but you wouldn’t like the answer. All I’m asking is for you to leave Jessica alone. I thought if you knew Malcolm’s body was not found in that home in Vermont you’d stop calling her.”</p>
<p>“Was it really Endicott’s place?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but Hayes’s friend leased it from Endicott’s company, and we’re currently searching for the man who rented it. Someone went through a lot of trouble to convince us Malcolm is dead.”</p>
<p>“Are they trying to make you stop searching or are they trying to get him out of the area?” Whitly started pacing along the red line. </p>
<p>“Both is our best guess.” Gil scowled. He didn’t like talking over the case with Whitly but damned if the man didn’t ask questions Gil wished new detectives would think of. “I’m assuming you didn’t know much about Endicott’s businesses.”</p>
<p>“Not nearly enough to help you.” Whitly wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. “And I would because it would help Malcolm. Even if I did know anything about the Hayes, it would be twenty years out of date. I don’t get much in the way of social calls here.”</p>
<p>“And the Dunbars, know anything about them?”</p>
<p>“Idiots. The wife was a holiday drunk. What do they have to do with it?”</p>
<p>“Them, probably nothing. Their son knew about the trafficking ring, probably not more than as someone could supply him girls for parties and that’s more than you need to know.”</p>
<p>Whitly clenched his fists. “And that’s what they’re doing…”</p>
<p>“No, at least not yet but that’s just another reason to get him back fast. You backing off of Jessica would help. Honestly, we need her assistance navigating the who’s who of the elite set because they are involved and you are distracting her.”</p>
<p>“And here I would have thought that was your job since I can still smell her perfume on your cheap jacket.”</p>
<p>Gil bit his lip. He would not rise to the bait. He simply wouldn’t. “So, we’re done here. You stop calling and I don’t have to speak to the heads of this place about suspending your phone time because I know you do use it to consult on patients. It seems …unfair to them.”</p>
<p>Whitly narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?”</p>
<p>“It’s what will happen if you keep calling Jessica. I have to get back. The choice is yours.”</p>
<p>“Why did you really come here, Gil?” </p>
<p>There was a strange quality to Whitly’s voice that stopped Gil from leaving but he didn’t answer him either. </p>
<p>“Was it to play the hero for Jessica or are you over that?” He swept his gaze over Gil, reading him like Gil would a suspect.  “You look exhausted. From what I heard on the evening news, Endicott’s man did a number on you.”</p>
<p>“He did but he failed to finish the job. Jessica saw to that,” Gil replied, and Whitly’s bushy eyebrows rose.</p>
<p>“She rode to your rescue?”</p>
<p>“I’d have died in a trunk of Endicott’s car without her. So yes, I suppose you could say I have a vested interest in her happiness. You not calling her would go a long way to making her happy and let her concentrate on helping us find Malcolm.”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t that be a twist.”</p>
<p>“She gave us John Hayes and his family. It’s more than enough.”</p>
<p>“Hayes? Jonathan and Lizzy Hayes?”</p>
<p>“Their children more so. Why? What do you know?”</p>
<p>“That Jonathan was a piece of work. As vicious as you seem to think I was, he was worse and in public. It wouldn’t surprise me if his children were broken toys. I remember Malcolm complaining about John Hayes from their time in boarding school. Does he have my boy?”</p>
<p>“John Hayes committed suicide after Malcolm broke open Endicott’s nasty little empire. It’s his sister we’re currently looking for.”</p>
<p>“She wasn’t very nice to Malcolm back then either.”</p>
<p>“No, I know. <i>I</i> was there when Jessica was called to the school. Jackie and I drove her out there to pick Malcolm up. Vijay came with him for a week at home.” Gil lifted his chin, challenging Whitly to say something. The pure loathing in his eyes said if he could get free, he might make a stop at Gil’s before going to rescue his son. He’d probably strangle Shelby Hayes with the length of intestine he cut out of Gil on his way.</p>
<p>“I suppose if I stop calling you won’t have to darken my door again and actual concentrate on what you should be doing.”</p>
<p>“True,” Gil said, willing to give him that much.</p>
<p>“Find <i>my</i> boy, Gil.”</p>
<p>“That’s my plan.”</p>
<p>Gil stalked out of the room and down to the parking lot where Adolpho waited for him. Gil wasn’t used to being chauffeured around but he was so damn exhausted he humored Jessica and let her send him off with her driver. He slept some in the back seat but not before turning over what Whitly had said in his head.</p>
<p>Once he made into the house, Jessica slipped an arm around him. She steered him toward the staircase. “Gil, you have to sleep. Malcolm might be able to pull off not sleeping for days but you’re not him.”</p>
<p>“I’m used to long hours with no sleep. All cops are,” he protested but climbed the stairs anyhow.</p>
<p>“And you nearly died only a few weeks ago. I’m not going to let you work yourself right back into that waiting grave.” Jessica didn’t allow him to change his mind. At least she didn’t mention he had a good twenty plus years on Malcolm as well. He felt every second of his age today.</p>
<p>He simply nodded. “In theory Martin will stop calling you.” </p>
<p>“Good. I don’t want to have to cut off that landline but I will if I must.” Jessica nudged him into her bedroom. “But for now, you at least take an hour’s nap.”</p>
<p>He nodded but pulled out his phone as he kicked off his shoes. He made a call. “Dani, get JT and I’m putting this on speaker.” Gil all but collapsed onto the bed and Jessica sat next to him on the mattress. Normally he’d shoo her off because it was a work call but she might have something to add. She helped him out of his jacket.</p>
<p>“We’re here, Gil,” Dani said.</p>
<p>“Whitly said that back in the day Jonathan Hayes, Shelby and John’s father, was a nasty piece of work.”</p>
<p>“He was,” Jessica said. “He was all hands. Lizzy usually drank herself into not noticing. He never harassed me when Martin was with me. I guess two predators recognize each other.”</p>
<p>“He’s not been very forthcoming with us,” JT said.</p>
<p>“I won’t be in until later,” Gil said. “In the meantime, run a deep dive on him. We’ve been concentrating on his kids but who knows? If he’s nasty enough for The Surgeon to comment on it, it’s worth looking into.”</p>
<p>“Will do boss.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.” Gil signed off and put his phone on the night stand.</p>
<p>Jessica picked it up and turned it all the way off. She crossed the room and closed the curtains. “Get some sleep, Gil.”</p>
<p>He didn’t even bother with turning down the covers. He curled up on his side on top of them. Jessica laid down spooning around him. He covered his hand with hers as they both drifted off.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. sensory deprivation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter has some dark content, non-consensual touch, humiliation, shock collars, drugging and a beating.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Twenty-three - sensory deprivation </p>
<p>Malcolm could barely walk as he was forced along by two of Shelby’s men. She had on her own Zenati suit, emerald green and it clung to her in a way that he would have found sexy were it anywhere but here and anyone but her. She had put a delicate silver dog chain on his collar as she led him out of the basement. He didn’t think they were going to move him to a new location, not with her dressed like that. </p>
<p>His suspicions were confirmed when she pulled on the Zenati’s hood in the old home’s mud room. The two men dropped back and Shelby picked up a big bag that he assumed had toys in it based on her outfit. Outside was another person with a camera and Ms. Jezebel. Malcolm made it down the steps on shaking legs. Shelby had filled him with so much GHB and Rohypnol in the last water bottle he was amazed he could stand at all. Jezebel clipped another chain to his collar and together they walked him to the side of the house while the camera caught it all. It might have been a better performance if he had full control of his legs. It had to look like a newborn foal being led on a chain.</p>
<p>To his surprise, there was a pool on the side of the house. He hadn’t run that way last time and hadn’t seen it. Malcolm forced himself to attempt to take it all in. Running today was out of the question. He literally could barely put one foot in front of the other. He would fall over his own feet, not to mention his wounds hurt.</p>
<p>“Kneel,” Shelby demanded, her voice distorted by a modulator much like the one Jezebel used. </p>
<p>Malcolm shot her a baleful look, and she hit the button on his collar’s controller. The electricity drove him to his knees in the grass just at the edge of the small pool’s flagstone surroundings. </p>
<p>“Try to look less like a broken toy,” she added as one of her men brought a bag to her and dropped it between her and Jezebel.</p>
<p>He tried to push back off the ground but Jezebel planted her stiletto heeled boot in his back. Malcolm could probably off balance her but if he did, he still couldn’t run, and he was sure they would make him pay for it.</p>
<p>Shelby opened the bag and pulled out a paddle with little holes cut into the wood and the word ‘doggie’ engraved into it. Malcolm did his damnedest to keep his face defiant. She was going to hit him with that one way or the other. He might as well make her work for it.</p>
<p>Shelby ran a finger over the heart cut out. “Think this will leave little round bruises?”</p>
<p>“I’d rather not find out,” he said, and she shocked him again.</p>
<p>While he was disoriented, Jezebel caught hold of his leashes and pulled his head down until grass tickled his cheek. Unless he wanted to stretch out on the ground, he had to keep his backside in the air. Malcolm wasn’t sure which way would hurt more him: totally prone or on his knees, bum exposed but he no doubt was going to find out. At this point, he didn’t think it would take much to topple his drug-weakened legs.</p>
<p>The whoosh of the paddle barely gave him enough heads up to brace himself. The wide wooden paddle blade cracked hard and loud against his bare skin. He gritted his teeth, not so much as groaning. Shelby wanted to hear his pain but she’d have to work harder. What profile he had for her was drug addled at best but he knew enough to know she wouldn’t go easy on him if he gave in immediately. He might disappoint her. She liked his pain. If she was disappointed in how he reacted, he might drive her to even crueler games. He wanted to avoid that at all costs.</p>
<p>The paddle which was meant to be erotic failed miserably in that. She hit him too hard, too often and she was <b>her</b>. <i>You wanted her to kiss you once</i>. He bit into the sod to keep himself from moaning. He also wanted something to stop his brain from dredging up the past, from trotting his regrets and mistakes out like it was the Westminster kennel club and they were champion show dogs. </p>
<p>“Enjoying this, Whitly?” she purred, rubbing the paddle over his swollen flesh.  He said nothing. “What was that? You want a little more?”</p>
<p>He lifted his head as much as he could with Jezebel pinning him down by the neck. He glared back at Shelby. Let her work with that. </p>
<p>“I thought so.”</p>
<p>She hit him a few more times before dropping the paddle to the grass. “Sit him up, Ms. Jezebel.”</p>
<p>Jezebel stood and jerked his chain until he was squatting on his heels. His ass ached as it contacted his feet. Malcolm couldn’t stop the soft, pained sound from escaping him. </p>
<p>“Can you swim, Malcolm?”</p>
<p>He nodded, eyeing the pool, very afraid of what she planned next. “My muscles are tired from the party drugs. I’m not sure I can last long.”</p>
<p>“Let us worry about that.”</p>
<p>It seemed like something he needed to worry about. At this point with as battered as his gluts were, Malcolm wasn’t sure that he could stay afloat at all. </p>
<p>“A little treat for you,” Jezebel said as she stuffed ear plugs into his ears.</p>
<p>Anxiety flooding him, he reached to take one out and Shelby shocked him until he dropped his arm. One of the plugs fell out but Jezebel replaced it without a word as Shelby turned to rummage in her toy bag. </p>
<p>“And now the real treat,” Shelby said, handing over a hood to Jezebel. </p>
<p>Malcolm got a good look at it and he surged forward, trying to escape. The electric shocks came again hard and fast, toppling him. Jezebel sat on his shoulders pinning him. She captured his head between her thighs. He felt her wetness against his neck as she pushed his face into the grass. Shelby planted her boot between his legs, perilously close to his scrotum. He wasn’t going to get away from them, and at this point he would get hurt badly if he tried.</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t fight so hard, Malcolm. I bet you’ll like this. You already hallucinate, and they say the hallucinations people get in sensory deprivation are intense.”</p>
<p>“No, please, Shelby don’t do that to me! You have no idea what you’ll release.”</p>
<p>“I’m hoping it’s a nightmare. You scream really good, do you know that?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” he said bitterly, trying to squirm forward. Jezebel bounced on him, sending pain up his neck into his head and down into his spine.</p>
<p>“I might need a hand with this,” Jezebel said.</p>
<p>Shelby’s boot left his groin, and she stepped over him so she could kneel in the grass in front of his face. Malcolm smelled her arousal. This was the best game to her. </p>
<p>Together they yanked the sensory deprivation hood over his head. It had no ear holes, no nose holes and only a small aperture for his mouth so he could breathe. The thing had no eyeholes either but it had a strap over his eyes, just for show. That and the jaw strap would no doubt look spectacular on camera. His world descended into darkness as they got it settled over him. Malcolm gagged when they tied up the strap that immobilized his jaw. After taking off his shock collar, they tightened the hood’s collar around his neck. With the earplugs in and the thickness of the leather hood, he couldn’t see a thing and hear very little.</p>
<p>Someone yanked him to his feet, probably one of the men from the feel of the hands but it was Shelby and Jezebel who led him forward. Malcolm tried to resist but they were able to pull him easily onto the first pool step. The water was nearly bathwater warm at least. He should be grateful for the simple things. He was eased back onto something. It was a pool float. The women splashed about cuffing up his hands and running the leash over his chest. </p>
<p>Then he was cut adrift. A momentary panic seized him until he managed to convince his brain he was relatively safe. At least  he wasn’t being hit. The worst that could happen was he fell off and had to tread water until someone fished him out. No, the worst was he was going to end up with a sunburned penis because he was pale and the sun was bright, no pun intended.  <i>No, you fool, the worst is they take pot shots at you while you’re blind, deaf, and helpless. Thanks once again brain for being super helpful</i>.</p>
<p>No one took any shots at him. Malcolm was fairly sure the women were now out of the pool and watching him from the decking. The subtle movement of the float on the water oddly comforted him and after the sting of the chlorine in his wounds faded, the water lapping at him felt good. Shelby had a thing for immobilizing him and robbing him of his senses. Malcolm didn’t know if  that could help him profile her enough to get him out of this mess but it was something.</p>
<p>It might have been a mistake for Shelby to do this to him. People paid good money to go into sensory deprivation tanks. It freed up their mind to think. He needed that. As warm water ebbed and flowed around his bobbing raft, Malcolm tried to picture in his mind what he’d seen of the house now. This pool was to the right of it. Beyond that had been nothing but cut yard and then the road. If he ran that way he risked people being at the pool, and he’d be easily spotted in the grass. No, his best bet was back the way he had gone the first time, into the woods and follow the stream but the other way this time, he reminded himself.  It might go deeper into the woods but it eventually had to lead somewhere, right? He wished he knew. Woodsman Malcolm ended at age ten. </p>
<p>Someone tugged on his raft, nearly startling him straight off of it. Hands held him in place.</p>
<p>“Relax, Whitly. We’re just prettying up the aesthetic here.” </p>
<p>Shelby took hold of his cock and Malcolm squirmed, trying to get away. The raft nearly bent in two, water flooding up to the little mouth hole in his mask. He sputtered as pool water leaked in. Shelby squeeze him hard, eliciting a grunt.</p>
<p>“Just relax, already. No one is going to emasculate you. You’d be useless in sales as a eunuch. Well, to most markets at any rate.” </p>
<p>He wanted to call her names but cuffed up, blind on a raft with his dick in her hand seemed like the wrong time to try that, not to mention the jaw strap immobilizing his mouth. Shelby slipped something leather over him. She snapped the little leather bands over his cock and balls giving them a cruel flick.</p>
<p>“There, prettier.”</p>
<p>She shoved him back out into the middle of the pool before he could argue that point. Sure her audience would agree with her, Malcolm tried to put the bondage gear out of his mind and concentrate on making plans. Shelby had truly disrupted that.</p>
<p>Something settled on his chest and suddenly Malcolm saw himself at ten years old, looking as raggedy as he had that day in the precinct when he was facing off with Coppenrath. <i>It’s been a while since I hallucinated you</i>, he thought to himself since he couldn’t talk with the jaw strap cinched tight.</p>
<p>“I guess you needed me now,” his ten-year-old self replied.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure what about me being on a pool float in bondage gear like some Rocky Horror Picture Show reject screams I need my childhood self.”</p>
<p>“Maybe because I was the first of us to get us out of a life or death situation.”</p>
<p>Malcolm gave that some thought. “You’re right. You did.”</p>
<p>“You think too much now,” Kid-Malcolm replied. “You overthink it. You don’t react anymore.”</p>
<p>“Gil and the team would argue that heavily.”</p>
<p>“You need to be me again.” Kid-Malcolm insisted, ignoring the little joke. He was all business.</p>
<p>“Trust me, I just got paddled and I want to cry. If that’s not ten-year-old me, I don’t know what is.”</p>
<p>His child-self snorted and got right down in Malcolm’s face. “Dad tried to kill us.”</p>
<p>“I haven’t forgotten.”</p>
<p>“It was only theoretical with Dad. Watkins literally tried to straight up murder us.”</p>
<p>Malcolm scowled. Why was Kid-him sounding a little like JT? His brain was having itself a little sensory deprived field day. “I haven’t forgotten that either. I’m the one with the pay-back scar on my belly.”</p>
<p>Kid-Malcolm pressed finger down hard on the scar, making Malcolm grunt. “You stabbed him first. That’s your answer, you know.”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>Malcolm knew what his subconscious was trying to tell him. He was going to have to get violent. He knew he was capable of it. What would happen when he snapped? Would he do to Shelby and her men what Ainsley did to Endicott? His gorge rose. <i>Don’t puke. Do <b>NOT</b> puke in this hood. You will choke to death.</i></p>
<p>“You might have to just react. Stab and run. It worked very well last time.”</p>
<p>“I had a knife then. I’m literally here bare naked and drugged.”</p>
<p>“They have weapons.”</p>
<p>“And I’m too weak to grab one.”</p>
<p>“You’ll have to fake them out.”</p>
<p>Malcolm thought about it. He’d already had that plan didn’t he? It was about his only choice. He couldn’t fight them at this point. Well it would be hard at any rate. He’d need to pick his chance from the dwindling options. When they were getting ready to move him might be the best time. If he made them think he couldn’t walk, he might be able to squirm free.</p>
<p>His kid-self dissolved away. His consciousness went with him quickly there after following the roofies into sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Disorientation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Twenty- Four disorientation</p>
<p>Malcolm rested on the blankets, the room spinning fast and hard. He wasn’t sure if it was hunger, dehydration, withdrawal, or the aftereffects of the sensory deprivation. Frightened by it, he tried to focus himself. Once he stopped hallucinating in the pool, his mind had gone glacial in spite of what he knew was being filmed. He couldn’t worry about that now. It would only distract him and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about any of it. He needed to concentrate on other things.</p>
<p>
  <i>I have to find a way out. I can’t wait until the time is right. I have to make this work.</i>
</p>
<p>Malcolm tried to stand but he could barely manage it. He had to cling to the wall to keep from falling. It wasn’t going to work but he had to try. He knew the door at the top of the stars would be locked but he had yet to take a peek at the other entrance. Only he didn’t know where it was. </p>
<p>The spins came faster. He nearly collided with his toilet bucket. Malcolm pressed a hand to his head. He wished he knew what was wrong with him. He walked directly away from the bucket. That should take him toward the other opening. His legs shook, feeling like they were made of gelatin with lead shot embedded in it. </p>
<p>His vision was blurry. What the hell had Shelby given him? Malcolm stopped when he found himself in a corner. Sighing, he moved along the wall, keeping his fingers against it. Even if he found the opening, he couldn’t run like this. Sweat slicked his body but he refused to give up.</p>
<p>Finally, he worked his way to the hidden door. If anything, it would be harder to breach than the one at the top of the stairs. This one was metal and locked. It also seemed to be a pocket door with no visible hinges he could pry apart, not that he’d ever have time for that. There were cameras here, and he should find them next. He needed to know if it was possible to avoid them.</p>
<p>Probably not. These were people used to keeping human merchandise contained. Even more impossible than finding the was keeping on his feet. Malcolm sank down onto his backside and started to crawl toward the blanket. The chill from the concrete made him ache so he couldn’t stay where he was.</p>
<p>He only had a vague idea where the blanket was. He didn’t think it was Rohypnol causing this much disorientation. Had she mixed in LSD this time to increase his hallucinations under the effects of the sensory deprivation? Malcolm thought he was in the middle of the basement but he couldn’t be sure of it. How could he escape like this? His limbs barely obeyed him.</p>
<p>“Malcolm, what are you doing?”</p>
<p>Malcolm glanced up into Shelby’s face. He hadn’t even heard her come down the steps. “Feeling particularly awful and trying to distract myself from it.”</p>
<p>She made a face, surveying him. “You look awful.” Reaching down, she grabbed him by the shock collar and pulled. He must truly look bad if she was willing to risk being this close to him. Truthfully, he didn’t think he could do anything. Malcolm yanked hard against her pull, trying to get his feet under him. Shelby backhanded him, splitting his lip.</p>
<p>“You can never do anything the easy way.” This time she took a big handful of his hair and pulled. He had a choice either follow her or lose part of his scalp. Getting his feet under him, Malcolm managed to stumble after her. She left him on his blankets and he collapsed on it, hating that he actually felt grateful to be back on the relative warmth of the dirty things. <br/> <br/>Shelby left him and marched over to the stairs. She sat on them, staring at him. “So, what do you think, Whitly? Shall we go north to Canada and from there get a flight to Europe or shall we drive to Mexico and fly out to warmer climes in the Caribbean?” </p>
<p>“Bright,” he murmured.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Not Whitly. I’m Bright.”</p>
<p>She waved him off. “No one has ever cared about that. John thought it was pretty funny that one time you came with your mother to that charity event over the holidays, and even she called you Whitly. Remember the one where you gave a little talk? Hell, I think it was actually on saving the victims of human trafficking. How ironic is that?”</p>
<p>“More ironic, my last girlfriend was a lawyer fighting to end trafficking.” He summoned up enough energy to smirk.</p>
<p>Shelby snorted. “I heard it ended up with her being murdered. That’s what being a do-gooder gets you, Malcolm. So north or south?”</p>
<p>“I can see how you’ll get me out of the country in a car but how do you plan to fly me anywhere?”</p>
<p>“It’s literally my job to move people around. Let me worry about it.”</p>
<p>“South.”</p>
<p>“North it is. I figured you’d pick the one with the best chance of us getting caught by the American police.” Shelby stood and dusted off her back side. She wrinkled her nose at him. “Maybe you should sleep it off. You look awful, Malcolm.”</p>
<p>“Sleeping on the icy concrete isn’t much fun. I don’t even have a pillow…or clothes,” he shot back, rallying a bit of his natural fire. </p>
<p>She snorted and disappeared out the door. A few minutes later it reopened and a pillow and a third blanket were tossed down the steps without a word being said. The door’s lock was thrown immediately. Malcolm staggered over to retrieve the items. How she managed to find a pillow that smelled like someone’s butt had been parked on it for a year he had no idea but he didn’t actually care. The third blanket helped with the chill and for the first time in what felt like forever, he had something comfortable to rest his head on besides his arm. He might not have gotten free but Malcolm counted this as a victory.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Infection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter contains medical details that many might consider gross. I used to be a wound care specialist so wound descriptions and treatments in this chapter are as real as I could make them.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Twenty-Five – Infection</p><p>Malcolm woke with the shakes, chilled and yet somehow burning up at the same time. He groaned. His injured leg hurt badly. A red streak arched from the wound on his thigh up toward his hip like grabbing fingers and stabbed down toward his knee.</p><p>Thinking he might vomit, Malcolm managed to get up and stumbled toward his toilet bucket. He did have to pee after all. At some point he’d been gifted with hand sanitizer to go with the cheap toilet paper. After he relieved himself and cleaned up, Malcolm checked his leg. Hot and swollen around where the bullet ricochet had caught him, it worried him. He probed the wound. </p><p>It broke open, pouring yellow-brown pus down his leg, smelling worse than the toilet bucket. He gagged but grabbed some toilet paper and forced himself to squeeze around the wound to drain the abscess. Once the horrible pus stopped flowing and blood coursed along the contours of his leg, Malcolm stopped squeezing. He mopped up the purulent mess, tossing the tissues in the bucket. </p><p>He eyed the hand sanitizer, his blood thrumming in his ears. He didn’t want to do what he was thinking of.</p><p>“You know you have to do it,” his father said in his ear.</p><p>Malcolm nodded, not looking over his shoulder at his father. Now he understood why he had been so disorientated yesterday. He was infected, maybe bordering on septicemia. He remembered his father’s lectures as a child and the physiology class he had taken at Harvard. He could die or lose his leg or both by the end of this.</p><p>“It’s going to hurt,” he whispered.</p><p>“A lot, I should think but you need to do it, my boy.”</p><p>Malcolm sanitized his hands twice, wiping them with tissue both times and then he got a glob of the sanitizer on his hand and slapped into the open wound. He groaned, staggering back. He nearly lost his footing. The wound burned horribly as the alcohol tormented the ragged open wound. Even the antiseptic smell did nothing to hide the stench of the sickness in his leg, something akin to raw sewage mixed with rot.</p><p>Malcolm staggered to the steps and tried to get up them. He managed to crawl to the top and banged on the door. He rattled the lock, which wasn’t about to give so he banged some more.</p><p>“Get away from the damn door, Malcolm, or I’ll send someone in the other direction and have them beat you down the steps.”</p><p>Malcolm didn’t argue. What would be the point? He crawled back to the bottom of the steps. “Shelby, I’m sick. My wounds are infected.”</p><p>He heard a loud cursing and the lock was opened. Shelby came down the steps, scowling but stopped at the top step. She wrinkled her nose. </p><p>“It smells like an open sewer in here.”</p><p>He pointed to his leg. “It was an abscess. You need to get me help or just let me go.  I’ve told you before, just leave me and run.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t it be easier to simply kill you and pick up my business elsewhere?” She smiled sweetly at him.</p><p>“I’m leaving that as a last resort,” he replied. “Please, you wanted to keep me but you can’t like this.”</p><p>She curled her lip at him and let herself back out the door. Hearing it lock, Malcolm limped back to his bucket. He picked up his toilet paper before retreating back to his blankets. He wadded up tissues between him and the bedding. The last thing he needed as to roll around on the blankets, transferring the bacteria from his leg into his other wounds. He rested on his good side and burst into tears.</p><p> </p><p>They would do him no good but Malcolm couldn’t fight off the hysteria. Even if he were on his meds, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. The primitive part of his brain had control and all it knew was fear. He could die within hours like this. He had started to think he might actually survive his captivity. He’d worked Shelby from selling him to keeping him and that had been a positive because he felt he might be able to get away with time. If he went septic, his organs would fail and he’d die a painful, horrible death.</p><p>He buried his face in the crook of his elbow, struggling with his breathing. If he could slow his breaths down, maybe he could rein in the tears. The latter proved easier to stop than he thought, mostly because he was dehydrated. His mind raced out of control. Anxiety and fever had their way with him, owning him in all the worst ways. If he couldn’t settle his mind, he couldn’t think. If he couldn’t think, he died.</p><p>That was the last cogent thought in his mind until he heard footsteps on the stairs which woke him up. No, he wasn’t sure he was asleep so much as unconscious. Malcolm shook uncontrollably, his body sheened with sweat. Shelby had two other people with her, both women. He thought both were likely Scandinavian or Northern European of some sort. One, fortyish, watched him with the feral gaze of a hawk. The other, thin and short, had dead eyes. She stayed behind the others.</p><p>“Malcolm, behave yourself for Doctor Kuzmich,” Shelby said.</p><p>Malcolm couldn’t find words so he settled for studying Kuzmich. She looked him over dispassionately. Was she a mob doctor? Maybe. She must be someone Shelby and her brother kept on hand to make sure their merchandise didn’t die before being sold.  He wasn’t entirely sure she was a doctor but he couldn’t exactly ask for a second opinion. She rolled him onto his belly, checked the abrasions and slices left by the crop and whip and said something to the other woman in what might have been Russian.  </p><p>She flipped him back over. Her gloved hands probed his leg and he yelped as she put a finger into the wound. More pus came out this time and Kuzmich talked at length to the other woman. She stripped off her gloves and put on a fresh pair. Malcolm barely registered her drawing up a syringe full of something. She injected it into his butt and stood up. </p><p>“Bandage him,” she said in English before going upstairs without another word. </p><p>The dead-eyed woman knelt next to him with a bag of gauze pads, rolls of gauze and tape. She had taken out a jar filled with a strand of gauze impregnated with something red-brown.</p><p>“You’re not allergic to penicillin, are you, Whitly?” Shelby hit his surname, taunting him with it. “Or iodine.”</p><p>“Not allergic,” he slurred out, his tongue thick and his fever even higher now. He was sure of it. He’d begun to stink of sweat along with the swampy sewer smell coming out of his leg. </p><p>“That was an antibiotic Kuzmich gave you. I have more right here.” She took out a bottle of pills and shook it. “Impressive what you can find in a vet’s office. The merchandise gets infected a lot around here, mostly just STDs but they still need antibiotics. Horse antibiotics work well. Tasha there will get you bandaged up. I’m going to get you some water.”</p><p>Malcolm nodded too exhausted to do much more. As Shelby left the basement, Tasha shoved the impregnated gauze into his leg wound while he squirmed and moaned from the fiery pain it evoked. She wrapped his thigh with gauze and taped it off. She slavered ointment on the bullet graze on his side and covered it too. His shoulders, buttocks and thighs got the same treatment. She said nothing, her eyes never once coming alive. He didn’t doubt she had been merchandise once and was nothing but a walking Stockholm Syndrome now.</p><p>When she was done, she left him lying on his blankets, looking like something pulled out of sarcophagus and not in the best of shape at that. She took his bucket and emptied it down the grate in the floor, sluicing it away with the hose. Tasha left the basement just about the same time Shelby returned. She had a bottle of water in one hand and something in a thermos in the other.  She squatted down, heedless of how close she was. She knew he couldn’t muster an attack at this point. </p><p>She took the cap off the water and handed it to him.  As he pulled himself into a sitting position, weaving on his butt, she plopped a pill in his hand. He dutifully took it, not caring it if an antibiotic or something else.  She put the thermos next to his hip.</p><p>“Chicken broth. Kuzmich said to get something into you but didn’t think you’d keep down much. Drink some or don’t.” Shelby shrugged. “I’ll send someone down to see if you’re still alive in an hour or so.”</p><p>He spared her a glare. “I need a hospital, Shelby.”</p><p>“Horse antibiotics are good enough for the likes of you. Try to sleep or something.”</p><p>Shelby retreated to somewhere else in the house. Malcolm wondered why she was spending so much time here. He decided it was too dangerous for her to be in the city. They must be looking for her. Of course, it might be that he was too intriguing for her to give up the chance to dominate him and hurt him some more. He’d better hope the horse antibiotics, if that was what they were, helped him. If he continued to fail, she’d probably cut her losses and run for the border now. </p><p>He wasn’t sure why she was waiting. He was fairly sure she had a trunk with his name on it to transport him wherever she wanted. It might be she was hoping she wouldn’t have to start all over again somewhere else. That made sense but her brother’s suicide and the crumbling of Endicott’s empire would probably shine too much light on this dirty little corner of the world. Shelby would have to run eventually.</p><p>Malcolm twisted the top off the thermos and drank. It really was nothing but chicken broth but he didn’t care. It tasted good. He swallowed down a few mouthfuls until the heat from the soup seemed to fire up his fever. He recapped it, drank some more water, which was at least cooling and then curled up in his blankets. The sickness took him under in seconds.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Migraine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Twenty- Six  Migraine</p>
<p> </p>
<p>JT had often joked that working with Malcolm Bright would give him a migraine. Now it was literal fact. He woke up with a head-splitting pain behind his eyes and staggered into the bathroom, half convinced his head might actually explode. He slogged through his morning routine and not even Tally’s arms going around him as he tried to dress comforted him.</p>
<p>“You look awful. I’d tell you to stay in bed but I know you won’t.” She kissed him, pressing herself into his back. She wasn’t showing yet. Her body didn’t feel much different to him at this point but knowing she was pregnant, JT wanted to keep as much anxiety away from Tally as he could. Only he hadn’t been able to hide how much Bright’s kidnapping had affected him. </p>
<p>“I can’t,” he agreed gently.</p>
<p>“You need to go bring our boy home,” Tally said, and he wondered how she had adopted Bright after one weird sort-of double date. “He needs you.”</p>
<p>“We’re trying our best.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have you….” Tally trailed off. “Never mind.”</p>
<p>“We’re looking everywhere for him. We really thought that house in Vermont was going to be it but I’m glad we were wrong.” JT had told Tally the truth even though he probably shouldn’t have. He could have lived well without seeing that beaten mess someone had left behind to pretend it was Bright. JT hated that someone had died merely to try and trick them. It was senseless and they had no idea who this person was. They might never know unless there was a hit on his DNA. “His mother knows the truth, of course, that he’s not dead. I was hoping for…more I guess. I was hoping the news article would flush Hayes out but wherever she is, she’s still laying low.”</p>
<p>“If she’s a trafficker, she knows ways in and out of the country.” Tally took his hand and led him into the kitchen. She got some freezer waffles out and put them in the toaster oven.</p>
<p>“Not for me, hon. My head is killing me. I’m not sure I can keep them down. I’ll just nuke a burrito.”</p>
<p>Tally thinned her lips but didn’t ask how that was any better than the waffles. He grabbed one out of the freezer and tossed it in the microwave. “I want to see him in his ten-thousand-dollar suit again,” she said.</p>
<p>“Me too. Less than a year ago I couldn’t imagine that. I’m not sure how I read him so wrong,” JT said, leaning against the counter. “I want this to end, one way or the other.”</p>
<p>“There’s only one way it needs to end,” she countered, and he nodded, regretting it as pain ratcheted up. </p>
<p>“I keep thinking about what I said to Gil on that first case. I told him I loved him but asking me to work with Bright was a bridge too far.”</p>
<p>“What changed your mind?” She put her own waffles in the toaster oven just as his microwaved burrito dinged. </p>
<p>“At first, it was Gil’s answer to Dani’s question of what Bright was to him. I felt horrible, Tally, trying to imagine being a ten-year-old kid doing something that I <i>knew</i> would rob me of my father and if it didn’t, then it would mean my serial killing father knew I could and would betray him. What would that have meant for Bright if Gil hadn’t believed him? Would Whitly have killed his kid next? I know now the answer is yes. He took Bright into the woods to kill him just before Bright called the cops.” </p>
<p>JT took a bit of the egg and cheese  burrito. It might be cheap but it tasted good. “After that, I could see just how lonely he was, how <i>hard</i> he tried to get me to like him, even though we have absolutely nothing in common. Once I realized he wasn’t being disrespectful to the job and to me with his sarcasm and non-stop talking, I was able to look around his shields and see him. And I….” JT trailed off.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I just thought of something Gil said when he went to talk to Whitly about Bright. The Surgeon said something about looking at Hayes senior, and we did but I’m thinking, have we looked under the mother’s maiden name.” JT pulled out his phone and made a call to Dani. “Powell, have you done a search for properties under Hayes’s mother’s name?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but she owns nothing.”</p>
<p>“Damn. How about Grandpa Hayes?”</p>
<p>“I think so. I’ll double check. I’m on my way in now. Colette called me. I was just about to contact you. Another damn video has surfaced and she says it’s really bad.”</p>
<p>JT clenched his teeth, hoping his burrito wouldn’t come back up on him.  “I’ll be in as soon as I can.”</p>
<p>Tally tapped his hand as he clicked end call, and she gave him a travel mug full of coffee. “Maybe this will take the edge off the headache.” She kissed him. “Go bring him home, love.”</p>
<p>“I’ll try my best.”</p>
<p>The coffee didn’t take the edge off his migraine much but JT made it to work. Dani was at her desk and he heard Gil arguing with Garcia in his office. She probably wanted him to go home and rest but he wasn’t having it. Dani waved him over. </p>
<p>“You got me thinking. We did look at Grandpa Hayes but we didn’t look at Liza Johnson, the maternal grandmother, and I just found a few places upstate New York, fairly close to the border. I’ve already got Cordova working on warrants for these places, which will be tricky given what little we got.”</p>
<p>“We’ve found bodies at three of the Hayes sites and some other evidence at two others. I think that’s plenty of probable cause,” JT argued but he knew it really often came down to which judge they drew.</p>
<p>Dani rolled her shoulders. “You look awful.”</p>
<p>“I have a helluva headache. Have you seen the other video yet?”</p>
<p>She shook her head, blanching. “They wanted to get the search warrants going first. Garcia wants Gil to go home. I’m on her side but on the other hand, I know he just can’t sit this out.”</p>
<p>“I hope she sees reason. It might literally kill him to not be a part of helping to find Bright.” JT glanced toward Gil’s office. “Anything we should know about these properties?”</p>
<p>“This one is not as likely.” Dani pointed to the Google Earth  screen she had up. “It seems to have too many neighbors. McLendon and Eastlack don’t think it matches the topography. I think this one might be better.” She put a different address in the search screen and a more remote picture came up. “No street views, like the other has. All you can see is a roofline, lots of trees, and there’s a creek here that feeds into a small pond a few miles away.”</p>
<p>Before he could study it heavily, JT glanced up, hearing something. Garcia walked out of Gil’s office. Gil stood in the doorway and JT waved Gil over.</p>
<p>“Have something?”</p>
<p>“Is Garcia going to let you stay?” Dani asked.</p>
<p>“For now. At this point she’s going to have to get someone to carry me out if she wants me gone,” Gil growled. Neither of them doubted him. “I’ve convinced her I’m fine.”</p>
<p>JT doubted that. Gil’s face was haggard, his skin dry, almost botchy looking. His hands shook with a fine tremor. JT pushed that aside. “Dani found something.”</p>
<p>“JT suggested looking into the grandparents and here, Granny Johnson has a couple homes. We’re waiting on Cordova to get a warrant on them.”</p>
<p>“Powell, Tarmel,” Swanson called, peeking out from one of the conference rooms. “Lieutenant Arroyo, we’re still working on the warrants but if you think you can handle seeing this latest video…”</p>
<p>“We’re coming,” Gil said, making the decision for them.</p>
<p>They stalked into cyber crime’s war room, and JT wanted to turn right around when he saw McLendon’s face. The FBI agent seemed rattled. Hell, he didn’t even know Bright. Maybe some things weren’t just meant to be seen but how did he not look? In the war, they had a code; no man left behind. JT tried to adhere to that even when it was hard, even when he’d been at risk. Could he do less here?</p>
<p>They didn’t wait for Cordova this time. JT assumed she was in a courthouse somewhere with those warrants. They sat and stared at the screen, waiting for McClendon to show it. Even Swanson’s face wore a mask of sadness and she hated Bright. What had she seen the first time they viewed this? They should have just waited for the whole team to be here rather than subjecting themselves to it twice.</p>
<p>Dani balled up her hands the moment the video started with Bright naked and staggering weakly behind two women in Zentais. He recognized Jezebel’s form but the other was someone new. Could it possibly be Shelby Hayes? Another dominatrix who was hired in? With nothing but a little bit of their eyes visible it was hard to tell. Gil’s Adam’s Apple bobbed several times as they watched the women shock Bright to his knees and begin to beat him.</p>
<p>JT could barely watch as Bright fought having the eyeless, earless hood put over his head. The terror ripped into him. As JT’s heart rate doubled, the pain in his head tripled. Seeing him floating on the pool was something of a reprieve until the bitches put their hands on Bright, caging parts of him. Gil swiveled his chair so he wasn’t looking full on. It was then JT noticed Edrisa was standing just inside the door, her face half covered with a file folder so she didn’t have to see. When had she arrived?</p>
<p>JT paused the video and nodded toward Edrisa. </p>
<p>Gil turned to her. “Do you have something for us?” He didn’t castigate her for being there, knowing she’d have a reason. Edrisa wanted to help as much as anyone.</p>
<p>She nodded her head shakily, took a gulping breath in. She brushed at her glistening eyes and said in a tight voice, “The stand-in for Bright was drugged with roofies and GHB. We’ve sent the exact chemical makeup to the drug task force. You know how some dealers can be identified that way. I thought if we knew where they were getting the drugs, we might find a few more players in this game.”</p>
<p>Gil flashed a wan smile. “Excellent, thanks, Edrisa.”</p>
<p>She didn’t leave nor add anything more. Gil started the video again. Within a minute, Dani swore, and then pushed back from the table. She jumped to her feet.</p>
<p>“There’s a little more,” Swanson said.</p>
<p>“No, I think I saw something on that Google Earth picture I pulled up of a Hayes place before we came in here,” Dani said.</p>
<p>JT thought for a moment and stood. “Is it a pool? I thought I saw one on that picture.” </p>
<p>Dani nodded and tore out of the room. JT followed on her heels. She raced to her computer and hunched over the screen. He could make out a semicircular half obscured by trees right by the house.</p>
<p>“Do you have something?” Gil asked, sliding up to the desk with Edrisa silently shadowing him.</p>
<p>“I think so. He’s somewhere with a pool. Maybe this is it,” Dani replied. “I feel…different about this.”</p>
<p>“Last thing Tally said to me on my way out this morning was to bring him home.” JT scowled. “Maybe you’re right. This might actually be it. That is definitely a pool on a property owned by our suspect’s grandmother. It might be razor thin but…”</p>
<p>“I’ll call Cordova,” Swanson said. “I’ll have her add that to her evidence for that warrant. I know the video was hard to watch but…”</p>
<p>“If we’re right and it gets us to Bright, I can live with it,” JT finished for her.</p>
<p>He exchanged glances with Dani, Edrisa, and Gil. Dani was right. There was something to this. JT could feel it and his team could too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Power Outage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Twenty-Seven Power Outage </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Malcolm panted on his blankets, exhausted from his fever, which was barely better even with the antibiotics and anti-inflammatories he’d been given. His leg didn’t hurt quite as much. Another nightmare – this time about being trapped in a zombie filled landscape led by Eve and Endicott – further exhausted him. His father had been lecturing him from the far corner for the past ten minutes just heaping the bone-sucking weariness on him.</p>
<p>He barely turned his head when he heard the basement door open. Was that rain? The door shut against the sounds from above but Malcolm felt sure that was thunder he heard. Tasha returned with her bag of dressings. Malcolm accepted the pill from her, hoping it was another antibiotic that had a chance at stemming the infection coursing through him. He took long greedy swallows from the water bottle, betting Shelby hadn’t laced it with Rohypnol or GHB this time. Drugs were expensive and his infection was doing the heavy lifting in keeping him half asleep and quiet. The water was deliciously cool against his raging fever.</p>
<p>Tasha unbound the dressing on his thigh first and pulled out the gauze she had packed inside his wound. Malcolm grunted and groaned as she did. The wound had crusted around the packing material and Tasha ripped it free, taking dead tissue and infection with it. Malcolm flopped back on his blanket as she stoppered the flood of blood and pus oozing forth. The stench made his stomach roil. He whimpered as she repacked the wound and put a dressing over it.</p>
<p>As she reached for the dressing on his side, a house-shaking peal of thunder echoed through the basement, and then the lights flashed and went out. For a second no one moved, as if expecting the lights to merely flicker and come back on. They didn’t. Malcolm lunged at Tasha, taking the unsuspecting woman down. Hating himself, he thumped her head on the floor until she went limp. </p>
<p>At barely five foot, and cadaverously thin, Tasha’s pants wouldn’t begin to fit him. He couldn’t get her t-shirt off – not with her being dead weight and him being so weakened - and he didn’t want to waste too much precious time. He’d have to run for it naked. He found a key in her pocket and two cylindrical items. One was a flashlight and Malcolm felt sure the other was a Taser. He did yank off her shoe and gave it an experimental try. Useless. </p>
<p>He grabbed two of his blankets and wound them around himself. Someone would be down the steps any time now so he forced himself to his feet. He threw the Taser, the flashlight and the water bottle into the medicine bag and ran up the steps. No one was there. If he were lucky, they had gone to some other home where Shelby conducted business or maybe they were already outside. Maybe they were asleep. How late was it? The storm sounded awful, darkening the windows. Sure enough, it was raining hard when he slipped back out the mud room door to the outside.</p>
<p>Hearing voices near the front or maybe by the pool, Malcolm knew he had only one option just like last time: the woods. He fished the flashlight back out. He’d have to use it or run smack into a tree. Running into the woods in a storm was probably foolish. Could trees be lightning rods? He was pretty sure they could but what choice was there? He had no idea if there was a vehicle around and he had no key and hadn’t done all that well in FBI classes teaching them how to hotwire cars.</p>
<p>The lights remained out at the house, and he was sure they weren’t paying attention to him yet. They knew he was ill and barely mobile. Shocking what adrenaline could do. Malcolm forced himself to keep moving. He didn’t hear anyone behind him yet nor saw anything as lightning cut through the sky illuminating everything. The rain wasn’t as bad once he hit the tree line. The canopy was thick and the tree’s leaves were something of a shelter. </p>
<p>There was still no trail and trying this in the dark was even harder than it had been the first time. He had the luxury of going slower because no one was in hot pursuit yet. They’d find Tasha eventually. His adrenaline-fueled flight would come crashing down soon enough. He had to get as much distance as he could between himself and the house. He’d eventually have to kill the flashlight or it would give him away. </p>
<p>What waited for him in the darkness? Malcolm knew snakes would be tucked away by now but there could be bears, right? Maybe a wild cat? Even a skunk or a raccoon could cause him problems. Refusing to waste time inventing problems, Malcolm picked his way through the woods. Rain wormed its way past the leaf canopy. He needed to keep going no matter how slow. A fall now would rob him of his chance of escape. Of course, as feverish and half delusional as he was now, he might die on the path.</p>
<p>Malcolm had tied the blankets around him like a toga, hoping to keep the branches and brambles off of him. His feet were a lost cause. He hoped he wouldn’t step on something hard enough to render him immobile. Lightning forked through the clouds. Going into the water as he’d planned would be dangerous. He managed to get to the creek but he wasn’t even sure how. Moonlight played on the water and he tried to walk alongside the creek but the plant life was too thick even if he had on shoes and pants. Either he stuck to the semi-path he was on or he walked into the creek. He needed to obscure his tracks and the creek would do that. Deciding he’d rather die of a lightning strike than go back in Shelby’s basement, he waded into the creek. Malcolm groaned as the coolness of it played over his fevered skin. </p>
<p>Keeping the flashlight on the water, he slowly stumbled forward, thankful that the creek bed was silty. He couldn’t go any faster as much as he wanted to. His head had begun to swim. If he fell now, he’d probably not get back up. He snapped his head up. Was that a voice he heard? Malcolm didn’t pause as he listened. Yes, someone was shouting but it was distant.</p>
<p>In spite of that, he picked up the pace as much as he dared. They weren’t sick so they would be fast. They would have flashlights too and wouldn’t be afraid to use them. He didn’t have that luxury. If Malcolm even suspected they were anywhere near, he’d have to turn off his light and go by what little light to be had from the cloud-obscured moon and lightning. He kept walking. No one sounded close, at least not yet. Lightning arced close enough that his skin prickled and ozone tickled his nose but Malcolm couldn’t get out of the creek now even if he wanted to, thanks to the dense vegetation. </p>
<p>Finally, after walking for what felt like forever, he found a small pond. The underbrush had thinned enough he could get out of the water without being scratched to death. Behind him the voices sounded louder. He had to do something. He could see no road and the pond was just large enough he couldn’t wade through it. He didn’t want to get anywhere above his knees in the water anyhow. If it got into his infected wound it would only get worse for him. His legs shook almost uncontrollably at this point. It wouldn’t take much to topple him into the water.</p>
<p>Malcolm shone his flashlight around and spotted something that looked like a possibility for hiding himself. Another little feeder creek led past a limestone wall. A couple of trees had fallen in front of the wall. The people looking for him might be getting closer, and Malcolm was sure he couldn’t go much further. Had he not walked miles already? It felt like it. He swore his fever turned the rain to steam around him.</p>
<p>Going downhill proved harder than he thought. His knees wouldn’t lock and stabilize him. He stumbled and nearly fell if not for the trees he managed to grab for support. A gasp caught in his throat when he saw a sheltered nook behind the trees, etched into the limestone from water centuries past. Malcom meandered about and snared the heavy fallen branches and dragged them with him. He could cobble some cover from them.</p>
<p>A quick scan with the flashlight showed nothing but sandy ground in the recess of rock in the limestone wall and no critters under the overhang. He pushed into the nook, arranging his branches in a way that would obscure him from view even if someone thought he had gone this way. He couldn’t keep going in the dark. His energy was gone. Either he rested here under the shelter or he fell in the open. He’d be safer from both lightning and enemy eyes tucked into the recess.</p>
<p>Mopping his sweating and rain slicked forehead, Malcolm put the flashlight on the ground until he could get the medicine bag open. In it he found the antibiotics and took one with a few good swallows of water along with a Tylenol he spotted. The rest of the water he’d save for tomorrow provided he made it that far. He didn’t want to try and change a dressing out here in the wilderness. He dug around and found a power bar that was probably Tasha’s snack. He ate a small piece of it. His illness had stolen his hunger but he knew that he needed to eat. That little bit would be enough for now. He found a towel in there, the blue paper sort he’d seen in clinics and he wrapped that around his wet, cold, bleeding feet.</p>
<p>Malcolm put the Taser within reach and rezipped the bag. He turned off the flashlight and let his eyes acclimate. He could barely see the sky from here. Good, that should shelter him from view. He couldn’t hear his pursuers anymore. </p>
<p>“You can’t do more,” he whispered to himself as he stretched out.</p>
<p>Using the bag as a pillow, Malcolm tried to get comfortable. Everything hurt and his fever burned but hopefully the Tylenol would help with both of those issues. If they didn’t find him, if the infection didn’t end him, he would run further tomorrow. He hadn’t camped out since that night his father tried to kill him. Now someone else was likely to do the same if they spotted him. If he lived, Malcolm wasn’t sure he ever wanted to sleep out in the woods again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Hunting Season</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Twenty-Eight - Hunting Season</p>
<p>Gil couldn’t contain the feral grin on his face when they kicked down the door to Shelby’s grandma’s country home. The place reeked of gasoline. Dani tackled Shelby Hayes before the woman could light the place up. The FBI swarmed all over the property, grabbing up whoever they could find. JT thundered past Dani and Hayes as they wrestled on the floor. He knew Dani didn’t need his help and might resent him interfering with her attempt to restrain the combative woman judging by the untamed expression on Dani’s face. JT disappeared down the stairs.</p>
<p>“Gil! This is the place in the video,” JT bellowed, pounding back up the stairs. “But Bright isn’t in there.”</p>
<p>Dani slapped the cuffs on Hayes and Gil helped her haul the woman up. Fury filled Hayes’s eyes. She curled her bloodied lip at him confident there was nothing he could do to her in a way only the very wealthy used to buying their way out of all troubles could muster.</p>
<p>“Where is Malcolm Bright?”</p>
<p>“Don’t know anyone by that name,” she said smugly as Swanson marched a dead-eyed tiny woman past them. The little woman had bruises on her head. </p>
<p>“Malcolm Whitly,” Swanson offered. “We know you had him here.”</p>
<p>“Lawyer,” was all Hayes said.</p>
<p>The dead eyed woman pointed out the door and in a thick accent - maybe Russian Gil thought – she said, “Power went out in storm. He run. Her men after him, happy it’s hunting season.”</p>
<p>“Shit,” Gil growled, wheeling around, and running outside. He waved over the local police chief who was helping them. She was shoving a twitchy man into the back of a patrol car. “Perkins,” he called, hoping he remembered her surname correctly. “Do you have any tracker dogs?”</p>
<p>She slammed the door on Twitchy as Dani hustled Hayes out, who kept fighting her. Dani’s vicious expression made Gil nervous if Hayes actually managed to get out of her grip.  “I’ve already arranged for them once you said they might have people kept prisoner around here. I’d say we could take them into the house if you think your man was held there but I don’t think that will be helped much by all the accelerant they have drenching the place. We were going to check the outbuildings.”</p>
<p>Gil shook his head. “I want to take them into the woods. They said Malcolm ran out into the storm last night.” </p>
<p>“That was a helluva storm, Lieutenant Arroyo.” Perkins scowled. </p>
<p>“One of Hayes’s women said there were people out there hunting Bright,” Dani snapped.  “We have to get out there now. Who knows how many are out there hunting him down? They probably have kill on sight orders.”</p>
<p>“Do you know?” Colette asked the small woman she escorted out to the transport van. She shook her head. “We’re going to need more men.”</p>
<p>“I’ll call them in. And I’ll get you the dogs now, Lieutenant Arroyo, Special Agent Swanson but it’ll take a while to get more men here. And without something to track,” Perkins said.</p>
<p>“I have something. Hopefully, my scent isn’t completely all over it.” To Gil’s surprise, Dani pulled one of Bright’s ties out of her pocket. How long had she been keeping that? Is that what she wanted the key to his loft for?</p>
<p>“Better than gasoline soaked nothing,” Perkin said, calling in the dog team. “You can go with Lyons and the dogs. I can handle things here.”</p>
<p>Gil nodded. Swanson and Cordova divvied up their agents. Swanson and two of her men came with him, JT, and Dani, not saying a word about Gil’s presence. He hoped he was up to a long hike in the woods. The anemia, exhaustion, and sheer terror had wreaked hell on his recovering body. Getting here at dawn hadn’t helped but there was no way in hell he was going to sit back at the house, even though there was plenty of evidence Shelby was no doubt trying to burn. Let Cordova and Perkins deal with her.</p>
<p>Lyons looked a lot like her namesake, a wild mass of golden hair and tawny eyes as she led two dogs over to them, a bloodhound, and a Labrador retriever. They snuffled Bright’s tie and immediately started off for the woods. Gil wondered why Bright had gone that way and not followed the highway.</p>
<p>“Why the woods?” Dani read his mind as they kept up with the dogs’ fast pace.</p>
<p>“Betting the men were out front. Last we saw of Bright he was naked and beaten. He wasn’t going to be a match for them, especially since some of them were armed,” JT said. “He went where it was harder to follow him, especially in a storm…but don’t trees attract lightning?”</p>
<p>“They can,” Lyons said. “He could have gotten hurt or killed out here last night.”</p>
<p>Gil held his tongue, trying not to think about those worse case scenarios. He’d start hyperventilating if he did. He’d need all his air just to keep going. By the time they crested the hill, JT was huffing and puffing. Gil didn’t feel much better. Lyons took the path like someone who did this often and living and working out here, she probably did. Dani’s mouth was set in a grim line, probably not happy to be here either.</p>
<p>The dogs paused at a creek and Gil’s stomach bottomed out. What if they couldn’t track  in water? Isn’t that how it always was in the movies? There weren’t bunches of little creeks in his usual crime scenes where he might be able to use search dogs. If someone made it to the East River, they usually weren’t caught with dogs. The Labrador lifted his head, sniffing.</p>
<p>“Drusilla is best with ground,” Lyons said. “Spike tracks air scents.”</p>
<p>Gil blinked. Had she really named her dogs after characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer? “Can he still follow even if Bright went into the water?”</p>
<p>Lyons nodded. “They can even track for a while at least if he had gotten into a car. This goes toward the bridge about a half mile that way or to Turtle Lake two miles to the west.”</p>
<p>Spike turned toward Turtle Lake and took off. Drusilla hesitated looking like she might want to go the other direction, but then followed him so the humans did likewise. </p>
<p>“How far could he have gotten?” Dani asked.</p>
<p>“Bright is stubborn and determined,” Gil replied. “He has to know if he’s caught they’ll kill him.”</p>
<p>“They might kill us if we stumble on any of them out here,” JT reminded them. </p>
<p>Gil grimaced at the thought. That was all they’d need, a shoot-out in the woods. He watched the shadows and the trees, expecting someone to pop out but still when someone did, he barely had time to react. The man took one look at them and ran. One of Swanson’s men ran him down, tackling him into the underbrush. JT ran to help, getting some zip ties on him and they fastened him to the tree.</p>
<p>“I’ll call for some back up to help get him out of here,” the agent said as he patted their captive down. He came away with a pistol, ignoring the man hurling curses at him.</p>
<p>“We don’t have nearly enough men,” Swanson grumbled but nodded. “You do that, Mackerras. We have to push on. Did you find the man you were looking for?” She asked the prisoner who told her to do something anatomically impossible, something Gil had considered telling her on more than one occasion when she had engaged in uncalled for Bright bashing.</p>
<p>Gil didn’t wait for the FBI agents to decide what they were going to do. He kept walking, following the dogs. If he stopped now, he wasn’t sure if he could get started again. His energy waned but he had to see this through.</p>
<p>“Gil,” Dani hissed, and he looked at her, trying to ignore her concerned expression.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” he said.</p>
<p>“Now you sound just like him.”</p>
<p>Gil snorted. She wasn’t wrong. The dogs led them forward to what Gil assumed was Turtle Lake. More like a little pond but who was he to judge? Spike and Drusilla sniffed around the water’s edge.</p>
<p>“He couldn’t have gone in there, could he?” JT asked worriedly.</p>
<p>Lyons shook her head. “Not unless he fell in. There would be no reason to. The guy we snagged probably hadn’t found your man. He’d have more than likely ditched the weapon if he had used it and we might have heard the shot. If Bright went east the road is less than a mile but I’d have assumed we’d have heard something by now if a naked man was walking up the road.”</p>
<p>“Not unless he’s afraid to show himself,” Dani said.</p>
<p>“And the dogs look more interested in going…is that south?” JT pointed. “What’s that way?”</p>
<p>“Deeper woods.”</p>
<p>“Would he have gone deeper into the woods?” Swanson asked.</p>
<p>“Of course, that’s where his skinny ass went.” JT sighed. “I’m beginning to hate the woods.”</p>
<p>Gil sympathized. The dogs, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of their furry lives. They bounded along a path following along another little creek. “Looks like there is broken brush here,” he said. Gil squatted down and pulled an evidence bag out of his pocket.</p>
<p>“What do you have, Gil?” Dani asked.</p>
<p>“Cloth fibers and it doesn’t look like jeans like our prisoner had on.” He put them into the bag and rose out of the squat. “I don’t know if it’s another of Shelby’s men or Bright found some clothes.”</p>
<p>“If it’s another armed trafficker….” Dani trailed off but picked up her pace.</p>
<p>Gil followed, forcing his legs to keep up in spite of them feeling a little jellied. The creek wound its way to a rock ledge. Both dogs sat for a moment and his heart clenched up until he was able to remind himself these weren’t cadaver dogs and that wasn’t their signal. Drusilla stood back up and went one way along the rocks and Spike the other.</p>
<p>“Perfect,” JT grumbled.</p>
<p>“Let’s split up too,” Swanson said, following Spike. She beckoned Dani to come with her which she did reluctantly.</p>
<p>Gil and JT went after Drusilla. She darted around a tangle of fallen trees. She sniffed about some of them. Gil peered around and spotted a bare foot print. That shot his heart rate into the stratosphere. Before he could say something, JT had gone behind some of the dead tree debris and shouted. </p>
<p>“Gil, he’s here! Bright, man am I glad to see yoooowl!” JT stumbled back as the electrical crackle of a Taser sounded. JT went down, his head narrowly missing a thick tree trunk. </p>
<p>Malcolm stumbled forward, a couple of tatty blankets tied around him. The shock collar remained around his neck with what looked like dried blood around it as if he had struggled to free himself. He had the Taser in one hand and a bag in the other. His eyes rolled wildly like a spooked horse. Gil ran toward him, hearing Dani and the others closing the distance, having heard the commotion. </p>
<p>Gil threw his hands out. “Kid, it’s me! It’s Gil. Don’t shock me.”</p>
<p>Malcolm feinted at him, an incoherent growl rumbling in his throat. Gil jumped back out of range. This wasn’t one of the Taser types that shot out leads. It was more along the cattle prod type. </p>
<p>“Malcolm!” he said sternly. “It’s Gil. Come on, kid. I’m not sure my heart can handle a shock after everything it’s been through.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw JT rolling onto his knees. He hoped he could get Malcolm to lower the weapon before either of them had to get shocked again as a distraction so the other could corral Bright. He had no idea what Shelby had left of Malcolm’s mind. </p>
<p>“Last time you were on the ceiling,” Malcolm said, his Taser hand wavering.</p>
<p>Gil raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’m not on the ceiling at the moment so that’s an improvement right? Maybe this time I’m actually real.”</p>
<p>“My delusions always look real,” he said and Gil hated that anyone but him had heard it. Hopefully, Swanson was too far off to have overheard. </p>
<p>“And since they’re in your head they’d know anything you’d think I’d know about you. You can’t do the ‘tell me something only you and I know to prove who you say you are thing.’ I need you to listen to me, Bright. You just shocked JT and I’m sure he’d appreciate it if you didn’t do it again. Dani’s coming through the woods now. We just captured one of the people hunting for you out here and we have Shelby in custody. She was trying to burn down the house to get rid of evidence.”</p>
<p>Malcolm still didn’t put down the Taser.</p>
<p>“How did you get out of the basement?” Gil asked.</p>
<p>That made him drop the weapon to his side. “If you were in my head, you’d know that. Gil,” he said plaintively, taking a few steps toward him before he nearly dropped.</p>
<p>Gil lunged forward and caught Malcolm, dragging him against his body. “God, you’re burning up. JT, are you all right?”</p>
<p>“I’m a little pissed actually. That <i>hurt</i>!” He shot Gil the hairy eye but hustled over to help him with Malcolm. “You weren’t lying. You could fry an egg on him.” He slipped the Taser out of Malcolm’s grip and pocketed it. “Can you walk, Bright?”</p>
<p>“I…are you really JT?” Malcolm studied him with unfocused eyes. “You look…dead.”</p>
<p>“You’re still the state of Florida, Bright. If I look dead, it’s because you just shocked my ass.”</p>
<p>“Gil, JT, is he okay?” Dani called, hurtling a fallen branch.</p>
<p>“No, he’s feverish and delusional. Lyons, what is the quickest way out of here?” Gil asked.</p>
<p>“Back the way we just came and up to the highway.” She eyed Bright. “I’ll call for the ambulance to meet us on the road…or maybe.”</p>
<p>He flicked his gaze up to her, cutting her off. He nodded though. He didn’t need her to say the words ‘life flight’ in Bright’s hearing. He agreed that might be needed but if Bright realized just how bad off he was, getting him to a clearing where the helicopter could land might be difficult. They didn’t need him to panic if they reacted to how sick he looked.</p>
<p>“Let’s just get him to Turtle Lake. There’s a decent clearing there,” Lyons said.</p>
<p>“Do you need help with him?” Dani asked.</p>
<p>“I have him,” Gil promised. He could do this. He <i>would</i> do it. He was not going to fail his boy now. He could help walk him to the clearing. Lyons ran ahead with her dogs, making a call. Swanson walked in front of them, her head on a swivel making sure no more of Shelby’s men were out and being a threat.</p>
<p>“Dani.” Malcolm held out the bag. “Might be…evidence.”</p>
<p>“Of course.” She took it from him.</p>
<p>With JT’s help, he and Gil muscled Bright very slowly toward the lake. Bright could barely keep on his feet. Gil winced every time Bright did when he stepped on something sharp or a bramble reached for him but he protested violently when they suggested they could carry him. By the time they got to the pond all three men were sweating heavily. Malcolm started sliding out of their grasp.</p>
<p>“Lay him down here, Lieutenant,” Lyons said. “They’re on their way. They can get to us here.” She whistled her dogs over, tossing them a toy to play with as a reward for finding their man.</p>
<p>Gil and JT eased Bright to the grass. Before they got him there, Dani took off one of the blankets Bright had tied around him, slimy with mud and something green, maybe algae. She spread it on the grass and they rested him on it as best they could.</p>
<p>Gil sat next to him, unwilling to move from Bright’s side. There was a terrible smell around him that kicked Gil’s hindbrain, saying to run, that something was very wrong. “Help is coming. You just hang on, kid.”</p>
<p>Malcolm extended a hand out to Dani. “Water…in the bag.”</p>
<p>“No, here,” Lyons said, pulling a bottle of water from her jacket. “I keep it for the dogs. This one isn’t opened.”</p>
<p>Dani took it from her and sat on the other side of Bright. With Gil’s help they set him up enough to drink. He grabbed the bottle from her, managing to drink it on his own. Gil tried not to stare at the stripes of missing flesh and bruises on his shoulders. He swore one went nearly to bone but Bright was still moving on his own, stubborn to the last.</p>
<p>“We have them in custody, kid. We got them,” Gil said.</p>
<p>Malcolm shook his head, nearly losing the water bottle. Dani took it and recapped it. “Too many of them. Not sure who all was here.”</p>
<p>“Well we caught Shelby,” Dani said. “We have her, caught her trying to burn the house down. You don’t have to worry about her any more, Bright.”</p>
<p>His eyes misted up and tears spilled down his cheeks. Gil lowered him back to the blanket. Malcolm shook so hard it made Gil ache. Gil looked to Swanson and Lyons hoping they could read his non-verbal plea. How far out was medical?</p>
<p>Lyons stepped off and made a call. “They’re en route,” she said quickly.</p>
<p>“Helps on the way, kid. You just try to rest, okay?”</p>
<p>“My leg…”Malcolm said through chattering teeth. “Infected. I’m septic.”</p>
<p>Gil had already assumed as much. JT knelt on the blanket and peeled back the blanket Bright still wore around him. There was a mud smeared dressing on his badly swollen leg, which was also stained red and yellow from blood and infection. JT shook his head. </p>
<p>“I don’t want to try and field dress that, not here,” he said after a minute’s consideration.</p>
<p>“Help’s coming,” Lyons assured him.</p>
<p>“He can wait,” Gil said, brushing Malcolm’s oily hair off his forehead. The heat of his skin made Gil’s hand shake as his worry skyrocketed. </p>
<p>“Mom….” Malcolm’s chest heaved.</p>
<p>Gil didn’t know if that was a delusion he was talking to or a plea for her. “I’ll call her. I think I only have one bar but I’ll call her, okay?”</p>
<p>“Gil…” his eyes fluttered shut, and then jerked back open. “You’re the best dad. Lucky you always took care of me. You won’t need to-”</p>
<p>“No, don’t you dare, Malcolm.” Gil squeezed his hand. “Don’t you start saying goodbye. You are going to be okay. Help is coming. All you have to do is hold on. You’ve been holding on all this time. You keep doing that, damn it!”</p>
<p>Malcolm sighed softly and lifted a hand in Swanson’s direction. “Colette…whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Bright, I mean it,” Gil growled as Swanson nodded and said, “All right.” She stepped away from them and took out her phone.</p>
<p>“JT…”</p>
<p>“You heard the boss, Bright. You don’t say goodbye to me.”</p>
<p>“Gil was wrong.” A soft smile touched Malcolm’s lips. “I like you.”</p>
<p>JT squeezed his eyes shut, averting his gaze.</p>
<p>“Dani.” He reached out to her but dropped his hand and turned his face toward Gil, going quiet.</p>
<p>“Oh no you don’t. You are <i>not</i> replaying the land mine incident,” Dani said sternly.</p>
<p>Malcolm looked back at her and put up his hand again. “Don’t leave me.”</p>
<p>She captured his hand in both of his. “I won’t.”</p>
<p>As Malcolm curled his fingers around her hand so hard he left  pale spots in her skin, Gil pulled out his phone and called. Jessica sounded like she was in the bottom of a well.</p>
<p>“Jess, I don’t know how long this connection will last. I’m in the middle of the woods. We got him, Jess. We have him and we’re getting him to the hospital.”</p>
<p>Her sob shredded his ear. “Gil, where, tell me where.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know yet. I will call you as soon as I do. Here, before the call drops, he wanted to talk to you.” Gil put the phone close to Malcolm’s face.</p>
<p>“Mom,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “I love you.”</p>
<p>“Oh baby,” she said, probably as shocked as he was to hear Malcolm say it, and Gil lost whatever else she said as Malcolm’s eyes closed and his hand gripping Dani’s went slack. Dani snapped her head up, shooting Gil a panicked look. “Malcolm?” Jess cried.</p>
<p>Gil fumbled with Malcolm’s wrist, feeling a fast, thready pulse. “He’s in and out of consciousness, Jess. Help will be here any minute. I think I hear the chopper. I’ll call you back the moment I know where they’re taking him,” Gil promised, and then saw he no longer had a single bar. He hoped Jessica had heard him before the call dropped.</p>
<p>“Lieutenant Arroyo, you and your team go with him,” Swanson said. “I called my men. The local police are bringing some cars up to the roadway. Once they have Bright en route, they’ll drive us back to the house so you can get your vehicles. I can work with Cordova and the locals. I don’t need you for the collection of evidence. You need to be with Bright.”</p>
<p>Gil shivered. That might have been the nicest thing Swanson had ever said. “Thank you.” He stroked Malcolm’s shoulder. “Did you hear that, kid? We’re going to go with you.”</p>
<p>Malcolm roused a bit at that touch. Gil took his wrist again, feeling his pulse. His heart beat like a hummingbird’s. He was failing. Gil could sense it. He’d been septic himself not all that long ago.</p>
<p>“I know you feel horrible, Malcolm. Trust me, I know but we’re going to get you fixed up. Special Agent Swanson, we are taking the bag with us. We can establish chain of custody at the hospital but the doctors will need to know what he’s been given. I don’t want to dig through it without gloves on,” Gil said.</p>
<p>“Injected,” Malcolm said. “Antibiotic, don’t know what.”</p>
<p>“Okay we’ll tell them that,” Dani promised.</p>
<p>“Take the bag,” Swanson said. “With all the evidence we have, it probably won’t even be needed but you know how to secure chain of custody as well as I do.”</p>
<p>Gil nodded and looked up, definitely hearing the chopper now. The life flight helicopter did manage to land on the field. A nurse followed the EMS workers out of the chopper and they shooed everyone away from Bright as they worked.</p>
<p>“He said he’s septic. He’s been tortured,” Gil said.</p>
<p>“They gave him some injectable antibiotic,” Dani added.</p>
<p>“For horses,” Malcolm murmured. </p>
<p>“Okay,” one of them said.</p>
<p>“And that’s a shock collar locked around his neck. We don’t have a key for that,” JT said.</p>
<p>“That is not something we see every day,” the woman said. “Can you tell me your name? I’m Lillian Schechter and I’ll be your nurse through all of this.”</p>
<p>“Malcolm…” he murmured before fading back out.</p>
<p>Lillian glanced up at Gil as she got a BP cuff on him. “Malcolm?”</p>
<p>“Bright, he’s one of our profilers,” Gil said when Malcolm didn’t respond. “He’s been held captive for days and he’s also normally on several benzodiazepines for some mental health issues. I doubt he’s been given any in all that time. We know he was dosed with GHB and Rohypnol when he was kidnapped.”</p>
<p>“His pulse is one-eighty,” one of the EMS workers said.</p>
<p>Lillian popped her stethoscope into her ears and took his pressure. She scowled, “Eighty-five over sixty-five.” She made a quick sat-phone call and reported everything Gil and the others told her as her companions worked. “Doc Rose wants us to pull blood for lactate levels and to do a blood culture even though he’s been dosed with antibiotics.”</p>
<p>Her companion nodded and dug through the medical kit to find tubes.</p>
<p>“Malcolm, can you look at me?” Lillian asked. She had to ask as second time but Malcolm didn’t leave his eyes open long.</p>
<p>“He was more talkative when we found him just about fifteen, twenty minutes ago,” JT said. “Hell, he shocked me with a Taser because he thought I was one of the men after him. He’s not…well I guess he’s a little delusional but he’s getting sleepier since.”</p>
<p>Lillian nodded, “Thank you,” she said as Malcolm flinched from the blood draw. “At least you felt that, Malcolm. Okay, I’m putting his Glasgow Coma scale at GCS 13, E3 V4 M5. Patient is hypotensive and tachycardic.”</p>
<p>“Temperature is 103,” the second EMS worker said.</p>
<p>“Okay, Malcolm is going into septic shock. I need to start lactated ringers and we need to push norepinephrine to see if we can get his blood pressure back up,” Lillian said. “We need to transport him now before his airway collapses.”</p>
<p>“Where are you taking him?” Gil asked.</p>
<p>“Mercy Hospital is closest,” she replied.</p>
<p>“I’ll be sure his team gets there,” Lyons said as the life flight team hustled Malcolm into the helicopter.</p>
<p>“What happens if they can’t get his blood pressure up?” Dani asked, sounding so young and frightened Gil wanted to hold her and reassure her but he couldn’t.</p>
<p>“His organs fail,” JT said. “I saw it over seas.”</p>
<p>Gil couldn’t hear that any more than Dani could even though he had known the answer too. The helicopter lifted off and there was nothing left for them to do but follow and pray.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Emergency Room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Twenty-Nine  – Emergency Room </p>
<p>Dani had had more than enough of emergency rooms to last a lifetime. The first time she had ever sat in one her father didn’t come out of it alive. This was the second time she was here with Bright and what? The third or fourth time he’d been in one since he joined the team? At least the last time with Bright, they knew he should be all right since he had run through his mother’s house and clubbed Watkins into a puddle of mess. </p>
<p>She hadn’t been this afraid since Gil had been stabbed, another emergency room and another father figure who nearly died. Right now Bright was dying and it wasn’t fair. He had clung to hope and life for so long. He couldn’t just die now that they found him. She wanted to be back at the house he’d been held in and <i>doing</i> something. Waiting was the worst. She could be more productive but Dani also knew maybe this was for the best. She had a streak of violence in her, something that allowed her to fight hard when she had to. Right now, she wanted to turn that on Shelby Hayes and just let it out.</p>
<p>Shivering, Dani rubbed her arms. This was too much, too graphic of a fantasy. She frightened herself. Dani knew, too, what it was like to be a victim of violence and that made her more ashamed of the movie reel playing on her mind’s eye. She couldn’t stop it. She wanted to go full on Martin Whitly on Shelby Hayes and do what she imagined he would if he could get his hands on Shelby.</p>
<p>“Dani,” Gil whispered, putting a hand on her arm making her jump. “If it’s too much…”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure Swanson would let me back on site,” she said. “She did the kind thing in letting us come here but that also means we’re out of her way.”</p>
<p>“I know. If you want to go back, we can have Garcia put in a call,” he offered.</p>
<p>She shook her head. “I promised Bright I wouldn’t let him go. I know he doesn’t know where I am right now but if he’s conscious at all then he would want me…honestly I don’t even know.” Would he really want her here with him? Would he rather she keep the case going? Dani wished she knew. “The job’s so important to him.”</p>
<p>“So are you. He’d want you here,” Gil replied without a second thought.</p>
<p>JT pushed up off his seat. “I need to take a walk. I can get us some coffees, real ones, not the crap from the vending machine. Do you want any?”</p>
<p>Gil nodded. Dani didn’t really want coffee but she understood JT needed to feel useful as much as she did.  “Thanks,” she murmured.</p>
<p>No more than three minutes after he’d gone, Dani heard someone calling Gil’s name. To her shock, Mrs. Whitly was hurrying down the hall.  “How had she gotten here so fast?”</p>
<p>“She probably chartered a private plane. It’s a short flight,” Gil said, clueing her in to the fact that she hadn’t said that just in her head.</p>
<p>“Oh.” Dani went to stand but Gil put a hand on her arm halting her as he stood.</p>
<p>He caught Mrs. Whitly in a fierce embrace as she all but threw herself at him. She shook in his arms and Dani turned her attention to her phone just to give them the semblance of privacy. She saw three texts from Edrisa so she responded to her, letting her know nothing had changed. They knew nothing. Dani hated that they knew nothing.</p>
<p>“What is going to happen now?” Mrs. Whitly asked as she dropped into the chair on the other side of Gil. </p>
<p>He took his seat again. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine the FBI will cut Shelby a deal but you never know. Her organization is huge from what Cordova said. We know she personally kidnapped Malcolm, that alone is worth a lot of time in jail. It might be a separate case all together from the trafficking.”</p>
<p>“Is that good or bad?” Mrs. Whitly asked.</p>
<p>“Might be good,” Dani said. “If she makes a deal on the federal cases, we still have that. And someone was murdered to make us think Malcolm was dead. Not to mention the bodies we found in two of the burned homes. There’s no way she walks on all of that.”</p>
<p>“Good,” Mrs. Whitly grated out. “She can’t be allowed to get away with this.”</p>
<p>“She won’t,” Gil said. “Dani’s right, it’s possible that the FBI might cut her a deal on the human trafficking to get her to talk and expose the whole organization. But what they won’t do is give her immunity on the local cases.”</p>
<p>Dani hoped that was true. She couldn’t imagine Cordova, Swanson, and the rest going that far. Even Colette seemed distressed as Bright apologized to her for whatever wrong he’d done her. Dani wasn’t sure he even had done Colette wrong but that wasn’t her worry. Right now, she didn’t want to sit here simply waiting.</p>
<p>“Is he going to die, Gil?” </p>
<p>Mrs. Whitly’s voice was so soft Dani barely heard the question but it thundered into her psyche anyhow. It was what they were all dancing around. Malcolm was failing when Dani watched the helicopter carry him off into the sky. As far as she knew now he wasn’t doing much better but no one had come out to tell them anything. Was he even still in the ER? Dani hoped he was somewhere getting his wounds cleaned out, that he was stable enough for that. Would he come out of this with all his limbs? She couldn’t forget the smell of him, like he’d begun to rot while still alive.</p>
<p>She shivered hard and Mrs. Whitly reached across Gil and caught Dani’s hand. She squeezed it with icy fingers and Dani managed a hint of a smile for her. JT arrived back with their drinks.</p>
<p>“Do you want mine, Mrs. Whitly?” he asked.</p>
<p>She put up a hand, shaking her head. “I couldn’t but thank you.”</p>
<p>JT went to sit down but Dani popped up. She needed to take a walk herself. Gil and Mrs. Whitly might need some time alone. She was happy JT followed her.</p>
<p>“How did his mother get all the way up here so fast?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Gil thinks she chartered a plane.” Dani couldn’t imagine what it was like be able to throw money around like that. “I don’t get it, JT.”</p>
<p>He raised an eyebrow at her and waited for her to expound on her thought.</p>
<p>“If Shelby Hayes was smart, she would have just run away, gone to ground and maybe start up somewhere else. Why kidnap Bright?”</p>
<p>He rolled his shoulders and took a sip of his coffee before speculating. “Revenge. I’m not sure she had it in her to kill him. Scratch that, I think she does but not so sure she could pull it off without getting caught. Her brother is dead because of how Endicott’s death is shining light in a lot of dark corners. Selling someone into sexual slavery is one hell of a nasty bit of revenge and it’s something she knows how to do without getting caught.”</p>
<p>Dani nodded. That aligned with her thoughts. Why she was revisiting this now she didn’t know. “That’s what I was thinking. I guess maybe in the earliest attempts at tormenting him, like the burial video, flipped her switch. I think she liked it. I’m betting that was her in the zentai in the last video, the one with the paddle.” </p>
<p>JT made a lemony face. “I think you’re right. She was going to keep him but then he got sick. He’s worthless if he died on her so might as well burn the place down.”</p>
<p>“Or leave him out in the woods, burn it down and run only…was her men out there to capture him or kill him?” Dani mused. “They might never tell us. I hope they’re who Cordova tries to flip first before offering any deals to Hayes.”</p>
<p>“She’s jammed up good. I’m not worrying about it,” JT replied. “We have all the evidence she didn’t get to burn. Bright will pull through and his testimony, well, that’s enough to bury her.”</p>
<p>“I sure as hell hope so.” Dani finally ventured a sip of her own drink. He’d gotten her a mocha, sweet and still hot. She’d need the sugar to get her through this. “I can’t imagine what his mother is going through. She seems so strong but how much more can anyone in that family take?”</p>
<p>“Hopefully, this is an end to it. Want to go sit back down and wait or do you need time?”</p>
<p>“Let’s see if anyone’s come out to talk to Gil yet or not. I can always go for another walk.”</p>
<p>They returned to the waiting room. No one medical was there. Mrs. Whitly leaned on Gil, his arm wrapped around her. Dani and JT sat a few chairs away to give them that veil of privacy. She was right back to being emotionally done with being heartbroken in an emergency room waiting area.</p>
<p>She was to the bottom of her mocha when a woman in blue scrubs and an exhausted expression on her face walked toward Gil.  “I’m Dr. Khatri,” she said. “Are you Lieutenant Arroyo?”</p>
<p>Gil stood, bringing Mrs. Whitly up with him. He steadied her with his arm. JT and Dani sprang up and Khatri took in the tableau.</p>
<p>“I’m Lieutenant Arroyo and this is Jessica Whitly, Malcolm’s mother. How is he, doctor?”</p>
<p>Dani braced herself for the worst news. Khatri seemed too subdued.</p>
<p>“We’ve got him stabilized,” she said.</p>
<p>Dani swayed, nearly stumbling into JT. Mrs. Whitly made a terrible gasping sound.</p>
<p>“He’s been taken to ICU. I can’t have all of you there…”Khatri started to say but Mrs. Whitly interrupted. </p>
<p>“Can they at least go in briefly to see him? If he’s awake, Malcolm will want to see them and even if he isn’t, it would do them good to see he’s okay.”</p>
<p>Khatri mulled that for a moment then nodded, “All right but keep it brief.”</p>
<p>“That’s fine. JT and I can go meet up with the others and see what we can do to help,” Dani said.</p>
<p>“What did you have to do for him?” Mrs. Whitly asked.</p>
<p>“Right now, mostly we have him stabilized. He’ll need to go back into surgery to get his wounds fully debrided…cleaned out. My goal for now was just to get his blood pressure back up and IV antibiotics into him. We’ve managed that and his fever is coming down. Once we’re sure he’ll be all right for surgery, we’ll take him back in. Your son is very sick, Mrs. Whitly. He has been through a lot. I want him to have another hour of IV antibiotics and fluids before we take him for imaging studies to see how far the infection has spread and if there any broken bones or torn tendons.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Whitly paled and Gil rubbed her arm.  “You do whatever you have to, doctor.”</p>
<p>“Also, he was conscious for a little while, which is a very good sign because he was slipping into a coma when you found him, Lieutenant Arroyo,” Khatri said, and Dani tensed back up. “He said a few things, insisted we write them down. He said you needed to know.”</p>
<p>Gil nodded and JT whipped out his phone and opened it to take notes. “Let’s hear it, doctor.”</p>
<p>“Adamos wasn’t there and he’s important to the group. Adamos isn’t his name and he’s well dressed, whatever that means.”</p>
<p>“We get it. Adamos is a suspect. Anything else?”</p>
<p>“I’m glad this is making sense. We thought he could be delusional and rambling.”</p>
<p>“He is delusional,” Gil said, making Dani scowl. “He is also in benzo withdrawal, which I hope they told you.”</p>
<p>“They did. We’ll start reintroducing his medications once we know which ones he’s on, and he’s doing better on the coma scale.”</p>
<p>“I can tell you that,” Mrs. Whitly said.</p>
<p>“Thank you. He also said the queen of hearts is their computer person.”</p>
<p>“That’s not even a name we’ve heard before,” Dani said.</p>
<p>“Shelby wants to go to Canada and overseas.”</p>
<p>“Not anymore she doesn’t,” JT replied darkly.</p>
<p>“There are moles in the police department.” Khatri grimaced at the thought. </p>
<p>Dani and JT swore in concert. Gil muttered his own curse. “I did not want to hear that but it makes sense. Did he say anything more, doc?”</p>
<p>“Look for buried people. That was it.” Khatri pulled a long face. “I was hoping I heard that last part wrong.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t. He was buried alive for a little while with a breathing tube in the grave,” Gil said and Mrs. Whitly flinched. </p>
<p>“Once he’s stable, I’ll put in for a psych evaluation,” the doctor replied grimly as she took in that information.</p>
<p>“I’d feel better if he were transferred back to the city as soon as he’s strong enough,” Mrs. Whitly said. “Not that I don’t trust you and your care, doctor. It’s just we’re all from there and he’s going to be in the hospital for a while, isn’t he?”</p>
<p>“I’d say so.”</p>
<p>“I’m going to talk to Sheriff Perkins,” Gil said. “You should be aware of this doctor. If Adamos is loose, he might try to silence Malcolm. I need to get a police guard on his room.”</p>
<p>“That does sound dire. Do you want me to call security up to ICU until the police get here?” Khatri said.</p>
<p>“Dani and I can watch the room until they do,” JT said. “We’re armed.”</p>
<p>“All right, that works.”</p>
<p>She gave them directions to the ICU. None of them said a word in the ride up in the elevator. Bright was asleep when they got there, looking so small, so diminished, lying on the bed. Dani hated all the beeps and other noises from the equipment, all the tubes snaking around under the sheets. She watched his heart beat on the monitor, fast, still so fast but he was alive. She would stand guard as long as she needed to. No one was going to hurt him again, not on her watch.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Wound Reveal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Thirty 30 -  Wound Reveal </p>
<p>Gil had expected to sleep hard knowing Malcolm was safe from further harm, even if he wasn’t entirely out of the woods as far as his infection went. Maybe it’s what kept him awake in his hotel room most of the night. His own bout with septicemia after his stabbing clued him in all too well what Malcolm was going through lying in his ICU bed. </p>
<p>Jessica, at least, managed to sleep, curled up beside him. She needed the rest every bit as much as he did. Gil didn’t know how she had managed to hold it together as well as she had but at least know she didn’t have to worry about where Malcolm was and what was being done to him. None of them did.</p>
<p>He had nodded off sometime after three but dawn found him awake again. He slipped into the shower while Jessica was still sleeping. Gil hurried along, knowing if she woke up, she’d want to shower too.  By the time he was dressed, Jessica was sitting up on the edge of the bed, listlessly flipping through the TV channels.</p>
<p>“Morning,” he said. </p>
<p>“I’ve ordered breakfast. I hope you don’t mind.” Jessica finger fluffed her sleep-mussed hair.</p>
<p>He shook his head, not really in the mood for food but he knew it made her feel helpful and Jess needed that. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>“I’m going to take a quick shower before it gets here.”</p>
<p>To his surprise, it actually was a quick shower. He was used to her taking quite some time to get ready. She had her hair in a towel when she reappeared just as he was tipping the girl who brought up their egg white omelet with goat cheese and spinach. Probably not what he would have ordered but at this point food was food. They had gotten through about half of it when someone knocked on the door.</p>
<p>He exchanged a look with Jess who was still in a robe. “Do you want me to ignore that?”</p>
<p>“It’s probably your detectives.” She adjusted her robe.</p>
<p>Nodding, Gil fetched his gun off the dresser before going to the door just like he had before answering the door for room service. He’d kept the gun around his back until he’d been sure it was room service. He also didn’t peek out the peephole, feeling full on paranoid. Hunting down a huge human trafficking ring where not everyone was accounted for certainly lent itself to paranoia. </p>
<p>“Who’s there?”</p>
<p>“It’s JT.”</p>
<p>“Hang on.” Gil put his gun back, glancing at Jessica. She shrugged and walked into the bathroom to change. He opened the door. Not only was it JT, Dani and Edrisa were there. He widened his eyes at Edrisa.</p>
<p>She shrugged. “I drove all night. I wanted to see him for myself.”</p>
<p>Of course, she did. Gil had never seen anyone as pro-Malcolm as she was. He both appreciated and worried just a bit about her level of affection. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you. Come on in. We were just finishing breakfast. Jessica is dressing.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the bathroom. </p>
<p>“We hit the buffet,” JT said. “I’m glad Mrs. Whitly arranged for our rooms.”</p>
<p>“She appreciates all the work you did to help bring Malcolm home.”</p>
<p>“He almost got himself home,” Dani said, her tone self-recriminating. “Without us. If he weren’t sick, he would have made it.”</p>
<p>“He is strong,” Gil said, knowing Malcolm would need that inner strength. “But we’re all in agreement right, that when he tells us he’s mentally fine that we know he isn’t.”</p>
<p>“I’ve already contacted some of my battle buddies who specialize in treating trauma and PTSD in combat soldiers,” JT replied. “They have some civilian therapists they think are fantastic. They’re going to send me the names.”</p>
<p>“He’ll resist but we’ll make him at least consider it,” Gil said, thinking he wouldn’t bring Malcolm back to work until he did. He hated the idea of having to blackmail his boy into self-care but he would if he was forced into it. There was no way Malcolm went through what he did and remained all right afterward.</p>
<p>“I think he’ll at least listen,” Dani said, a strange expression on her face. </p>
<p>The bathroom door opened and they all turned to see Jessica as dressed down as Gil had ever seen her, in a pair of black slacks and a loose, soft-looking green shirt. Her wet hair hung down over her shoulders. “Thank you all for being here. We can go now.”</p>
<p>“Do you want to finish eating, ma’am?” Edrisa said. “It’s a little too early for visiting  hours, especially if he’s in ICU.”</p>
<p>“I think I’m done with breakfast. I could use more coffee.”</p>
<p>“How was the buffet area? Enough room for all of us to sit and have coffee or should we find a coffee house?” Gil asked.</p>
<p>“Coffee house. I’m not in a mood for bad coffee. I need something fortifying,” Jessica said.</p>
<p>Dani did a quick phone search and they lucked into a coffee house at the end of the block. The coffee was good but did little to lift their spirits. Now that it was getting closer to being time to go see Bright, a weight settled on them, subduing each of them. Everyone but Edrisa knew what to expect and for all he knew, Edrisa had somehow conned a ‘consultation’ on Bright’s condition and knew more than they did. Gil wasn’t up to seeing Malcolm filled with tubes and covered in wires but if that meant he was alive, he would take it.</p>
<p>When they arrived at the hospital, they found Bright have been moved to a step-down unit. It was easy enough to find it. There were two police officers sitting at a small desk near the door. They had to flash their badges and introduced Jessica as Malcolm’s mother so they’d know her and know she was safe to be around. </p>
<p>A doctor was in with Bright when they went into his room. The doctor was tall, nearly six foot, and had the same tired overworked expression on her face that Doctor Khatri had. She held up a hand to stop them. “I’m seeing how my patient is doing. You are?”</p>
<p>“I’m Jessica Whitly, his <i>mother</i> and these are all his friends,” Jessica said in a high-handed tone that all but screamed no one is leaving if that’s where the doctor was heading with this. “You’re not Doctor Khatri.”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “I’m Doctor Marlowe, a wound care specialist. After Khatri’s team got your son stabilized last night, they called me in to get to work immediately before that leg wound got worse.”</p>
<p>“Can you tell us what all has happened to him?” Gil kept his eyes on Bright who slept, looking too thin, too weak. The bed was angled halfway up into nearly a seated position and Malcolm slumped to one side, his hospital gown worked down off his shoulder revealing a tube piercing into him at his collar bone.</p>
<p>“HIPAA prevents…”</p>
<p>“Tell them.” Malcolm’s voice took Gil by surprise, raspy and fragile. So, he wasn’t sleeping after all, simply resting his eyes. “Mom’s…” he scowled, reaching for the mug of water on his table.</p>
<p>“I’m his power of attorney,” she said, getting the mug for him before reiterating, “Not to mention his <i>mother</i>. I need to know. Also, is he allowed water? Last time he was hurt they only allowed him ice chips. Same with Gil.”</p>
<p>“We were stabbed in the gut,” Gil reminded her.</p>
<p>“He can have the water but <i>only</i> from that mug. We’re doing ins and outs on him. His kidneys came within a hairs breath of shutting down from septic shock,” Dr. Marlowe said. “The mug has milliliters on the side so the nurse knows how much he’s consumed. If he finishes it, call the nurse to refill it please.”</p>
<p>“We will,” Gil said. “And we’re also NYPD detectives who were working Bright’s kidnapping. We’ll need to know all of his injuries for our reports. I hate to say it but someone will need to photo-document all of the injuries. Doctor Tanaka can take notes on your report if you don’t mind.”</p>
<p>“You’re NYPD too?” Marlowe lifted her eyebrows at Edrisa who pulled a small notepad out of her vast purse.</p>
<p>“I’m the medical examiner. I’m just glad Bright doesn’t need a consultation with me,” she said, smiling at him. He managed a faint one of his own. “It’s good to see you, Bright.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad to see everyone.” Bright fumbled with the controls to his bed, sitting himself up a little more. His eyes, sunken with dark rings, seemed to be the color of a winter storm instead of their usual blue.</p>
<p>“Mrs. Whitly, did you want to have a seat?” Marlowe said in a way that suggested Jessica had best sit for this. “You won’t have to take notes, Dr. Tanaka. I’ll have everything copied for you. I’ll start from the bottom and work my way up. Malcolm has a fifth metatarsal fracture in his left foot, with several severe puncture wounds in both feet, not to mention a handful of smaller ones and splinters as well because of his trip through the woods barefoot. We gave him both a tetanus booster and a tetanus shot so he should be good there. The back of his thighs show countless bruises and a host of open lashes. They’ve been cleaned and butterflied shut.”</p>
<p>Jessica took Malcolm’s hand and squeezed it. She caught Gil’s eye and pointed to the other free chair on the opposite side of the bed. He sat in it, resting a hand on the crook of Malcolm’s arm, tears welling up when he noticed that Malcolm was nowhere near as feverish as he had been yesterday.</p>
<p>“The most concerning wound was the one on his thigh, which he said was from a bullet ricochet.” Dr. Marlowe looked at Malcolm who nodded slightly, his eyes beginning to close again. “He has a polymicrobial infection with abscess and cellulitis. You could tell the wound was a grade one, superficial wound but the infection took it deeper to a grade two bordering on grade three.”</p>
<p>Edrisa made an unhappy sound at that. Gil didn’t know what that meant but it was obviously bad.</p>
<p>“Did he develop necrotizing fasciitis?” Edrisa asked.</p>
<p>Doctor Marlowe shook her head. “Not yet. I’ve gotten it cleaned out and the wound edges look good. I have it packed open for the time being.”</p>
<p>“What does that mean?” Jessica interrupted.</p>
<p>“You really can’t close a dirty wound with stitches, especially not when there is an anaerobic bacterium at play. That’s what accounts for the lingering bad smell. A closed wound is a playground for anaerobic bacteria. So, when we pack it open, we put impregnated gauze into the wound, which is gauze with iodine in it. It’s antimicrobial and it will also help pull out any dead tissues that sticks to it. Once the wound looks completely clean we can stitch it up and make it look prettier. Right now it’s very raw as you might imagine. It might take a while and Malcolm will be on weeks’ worth of IV antibiotics. We needed to infusion fluids into him quickly yesterday so we had to place a central line.” She pointed to the plastic hep-lock resting against his visible collarbone where his hospital gown had worked down a bit off his shoulders.  Gil remembered having his own central line and weeks of IV antibiotics burning their way into his vessels making him queasy. No wonder Bright looked green.</p>
<p>“Will his leg be okay?” Jessica asked.</p>
<p>“I’m hopeful we caught it in time,” Marlowe replied. “It hadn’t spread into the muscle yet. He’s lucky in that respect.”</p>
<p>“Tasha packed it with some of that same kind of gauze,” Bright said, reaching for the mug again. Jessica held the straw to his lips.</p>
<p>“Tasha?” Dani asked.</p>
<p>“I hurt her to get away.” Bright’s chest heaved.</p>
<p>“Ah, the one with the bruises. You didn’t hurt her bad, bro,” JT said. “Don’t worry about it.”</p>
<p>“Think she’s a victim too.”</p>
<p>“Swanson and Cordova have been doing the interviews,” Gil said. “We don’t know much at this point but we’ll relay that.” He canted his face up to Marlowe. “That’s not all is it, doctor?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “His buttocks and back have the same pattern of bruising and lash marks and there was a bullet graze along his side that is healing well all things considered. There were a few deep lash marks on his back, one deep to the spinous process of the scapula.”</p>
<p>“What?” Dani asked.</p>
<p>“Deep to bone,” Edrisa said, her eyes watering.</p>
<p>“We have it cleaned out and packed open as well. It doesn’t look infected so we might be able to close it soon.”</p>
<p>“The bone isn’t infected?” Edrisa asked and Gil hunched his shoulders at the thought.</p>
<p>“The x-ray  looked clear. He does have three cracked ribs and some burn marks on his neck from that shock collar. We knew he had been dosed with Rohypnol and GHB and found a great deal of the metabolites for those drugs in his urine. In spite of those drugs and his septicemia, Malcolm was cogent enough at one point to tell the ER crew that he’d had seizures from his withdrawal. Mrs Whitly, I guess you related his medications to Dr. Khatri but you didn’t know the doses. We started him on a low dose of all of them early this morning and about an hour ago, Malcolm was able to give us the proper dosages. I still want to gradually bring him back up to those doses. His brain chemistry is a bit of a nightmare right now.”</p>
<p>“I think it always is,” Jessica said softly, and Gil wished he had stayed at her side so he could comfort her. Dani put a hand on Jessica’s shoulder.</p>
<p>Jessica tossed her hair back, looking up at Marlowe. “But he’s going to be all right?”</p>
<p>“He’s responded very well to the IV antibiotics. His fever is down and the cellulitis on his leg is resolving so we moved him down here. It was also easier to have the security on the step-down unit versus the ICU. The fact that he’s sitting up and drinking is a good sign. He said he might be hungry though I’m not sure how there’s a might to knowing if you’re hungry.” She side eyed Malcolm.</p>
<p>“My son doesn’t do well with food.”</p>
<p>“Right now, we’re only allowing broth and Jell-O,” Dr. Marlowe said.</p>
<p>“Better not be red or green or he will lose it on you,” Dani said quickly with a hint of a smile. “Lemon or orange are okay. I think he feels betrayed by peach looking too close to orange or something. Honestly, I tuned most of the rant out but, trust me, no red or green.”</p>
<p>Gil covered his mouth, trying not to laugh at Bright’s wounded expression. At least he was feeling well enough for that.</p>
<p>Dr. Marlowe smiled. “I’ll tell the nurses to give the cafeteria a heads up. Malcolm, I’m going to allow you time to visit with your friends and family. I have some more patients to see on my rounds. And if he looks like he wants to sleep, let him.”</p>
<p>“Of course, Doctor,” Jessica said. </p>
<p>Gil stood. “Doctor, if you have a moment, I need to speak to you.”</p>
<p>“Of course.” </p>
<p>Gil felt eyes on him when he followed Marlowe out. He’d update his team as needed about this.  The doctor paused by the nurses’ station. </p>
<p>“What can I do for you, detective?”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t sure how much of his medical history you have. First, Malcolm has complex PTSD with night terrors. Once he starts settling into actual sleep versus being comatose, he will probably scream. He’s been known to run screaming down the halls. At home he sleeps in restraints. He will probably ask for them here once his head clears and this is without the trauma of being held captive by human traffickers, buried alive, beaten and whatever else was done to him.”</p>
<p>Marlowe scowled. “I will talk to the psychiatrist and see if they can bring us restraints. We no longer use them for the most part.”</p>
<p>Gil nodded. “It might be helpful. I hope he doesn’t have one of the running night terrors while you still have him wired up like he is.”</p>
<p>“He still has a catheter in so that would be very bad indeed. I’ll see what we can do. Thank you for letting me know.”</p>
<p>“The second thing is a bit more…delicate.” Gil paused, trying to decide how best to frame this. The doctor was just that, a doctor who needed the information. “As I said, he was taken by human traffickers. Several of the injuries you described were recorded as part of torture porn videos. None of what the FBI recovered were overtly sexual but we don’t know…”</p>
<p>She held up a hand, stopping him. “Malcolm was able to tell us a little about that. He said with all the GHB and Rohypnol he wasn’t sure if anything had been done to him. When we had him anesthetized to do the wound clean up, we examined him and that was about the one trauma that hadn’t been inflicted on him.”</p>
<p>Gil nearly staggered against the nurses’ station as relief washed over him. “Thank you for telling me that. I’ll let the others know when appropriate. They’ve been horrified on his behalf.”</p>
<p>“You have the person who did this to him?”</p>
<p>He nodded. “We have most of them.”</p>
<p>“Good,” she said viciously.</p>
<p>Gil agreed. “Thank you, Dr. Marlowe. I’ll let you get back to your rounds.”</p>
<p>He retreated back to Bright’s room. Dani had taken his seat and Edrisa perched half on the arm of the chair and half with her feet braced on the floor. Gil went around the bed to Jessica’s side, resting his hand on her shoulder. Bright seemed mostly asleep but his eyes kept fluttering open.</p>
<p>“What was that about?” Jessica asked.</p>
<p>“I wanted to let them know about the need for restraints before Malcolm tries to take a run with a catheter and an IV in his central line.”</p>
<p>She sighed, reaching up to take his hand. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Do you…” Bright trailed off. “Have to go home?”</p>
<p>“I have no idea what we’re doing besides staying here with you,” Gil said.</p>
<p>“Swanson and Cordova, she’s with human trafficking, don’t know if you know her,” Dani said, “are running the show right now. Colette told us to come be with you while they leveled the federal crimes on Hayes’s head.”</p>
<p>“I’ve called Garcia last night. She said she’ll arrange with the FBI about transporting everyone back to the city first before they get whisked off to wherever. I’m not sure if she cares about anyone but Hayes but we’re on it. You don’t worry about anything, bro,” JT said.</p>
<p>Bright sighed, his hand starting to shake. Dani reached out and took it, giving it a squeeze. He smiled at her. “Edrisa…did they make you examine my dead body?”</p>
<p>She nodded. “We all knew it wasn’t you. No matter what they did to that poor man, no matter the clues they tried to mislead us with, we knew.”</p>
<p>“Sorry you all had to see that.”</p>
<p>“It’s my job,” Edrisa said, digging in her big purse. “I know this is probably silly and not really a thing most men want but I brought you something. I have a big collection of them and they make me happy. I can’t stay long. I took two days off but anyhow… I thought this might help you feel not alone if none of us can be here. Hospitals are not a great place to be and I brought you a couple things.”</p>
<p>Edrisa wound up her ramble by putting a fantasy book on his bed tray. “This isn’t actually what I was talking about. Everyone likes books. I really enjoyed this one and thought you might enjoy it to help keep your mind off things and keep you from being bored here. And then here’s this to…I don’t know, maybe make you smile.” From out of the purse, she pulled a stuffed moose raising the eyebrows on everyone. “Like I said, I know it’s silly but…”</p>
<p>To Gil’s surprise, Malcolm reached for it and when she surrendered it, he pulled it to his chest, wrapping an arm around it. “Dr. Le Deux has stuffed animals. There is something comforting about them.” He hugged it. It wasn’t something Gil had ever heard him talk about doing at the doctor’s office, probably reason enough to nudge him again to a non-pediatric psychiatrist. On the other hand, if hugging that stuffed moose made him feel better, Gil had no intentions of stopping him.</p>
<p>Jessica stroked his arm that held the moose. “Are you getting sleepy, Malcolm? We can let you sleep.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want you to go.” The fragility in his tone was like a knife and it cut them all judging by their expressions.</p>
<p>Before Gil could say anything, someone knocked at the door. He turned to see Swanson standing there with a file folder in hand. Surprised, he beckoned her in.</p>
<p>“I won’t be here long,” she said as Dani and Edrisa both moved the chair closer to Bright’s bed, protectively. “I wanted you to know we’re transporting Hayes back to the city. She’s not talking but I thought you should know that. And I wanted to see how you were recovering.”</p>
<p>Gil was taken aback by that. It was the most concern he’d ever seen Swanson show and he couldn’t help that there was a bit of suspicion still in him over her motives. Malcolm opened his mouth but he couldn’t speak. He squeezed the moose tighter and shut his eyes.</p>
<p>“His fever’s broken,” Dani said, taking over for him. “The IV antibiotics are working. You could have called me.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to have to do this but…”</p>
<p>“No, whatever it is, just no.” Jessica jumped up, slashing her hand.</p>
<p>“We need to know if any of these men are Adamos. A woman named Tasha said he was the number two of the operation.”</p>
<p>“Well, can’t she identify him?” JT asked.</p>
<p>“She doesn’t know him by sight.”</p>
<p>“She helped me,” Bright said. “I hurt her.”</p>
<p>“Not badly,” Swanson said. “She’s fine, just a little bruised.”</p>
<p>“I can look at the pictures.”</p>
<p>“I said no, Malcolm,” Jessica snapped.</p>
<p>He took a deep breath in. “I can look.” </p>
<p>Swanson laid out an array of ten photos on the bed tray ignoring Jessica’s vicious glare. “Are any of these Adamos?”</p>
<p>Bright swept his gaze over them. “No. He’s my height, black wavy hair, dark eyes, had an accent, maybe Greek? Well dressed. He was in the car when they found me.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Escaped once before. Made it to the road but the car that stopped for me was Shelby’s.” He sighed and started to shake again. Gil grit his teeth trying not to think on how crushed Malcolm had to be to have his bid for freedom go so wrong.</p>
<p>“You have your answer. You can leave my son alone now.” Jessica stabbed a finger at the door.</p>
<p>“I will and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset anyone but I also don’t want Adamos running free.”</p>
<p>“No one does,” Dani said. “But you have an answer and you’ve scared Malcolm so that’s enough for one day.”</p>
<p>Swanson thinned her lips. “That wasn’t my intent and with you here, I don’t think he has to be afraid.”</p>
<p>“Send an artist,” Bright said, and Gil shook his head.</p>
<p>“Kid…”</p>
<p>“I have to and you know it. If it were anyone else in this bed, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Bright snapped, and Gil looked away. He was right.</p>
<p>“Malcolm, no,” Jessica said, and Gil gave her shoulder a squeeze.</p>
<p>“Let him help. I think for his own sake, he needs to,” Gil said but that didn’t make her happy. She didn’t say anything more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Swanson slipped out the door with the promise to send a sketch artist. Gil saw the look in Bright’s eyes. He did need to do this. He wouldn’t feel safe with Adamos out there. Worse, if Adamos was out there free to hurt other people and Bright did nothing to help, he would feel responsible. Still, Gil saw the toll even thinking of Adamos had taken.</p>
<p>“He arranged for the decoy for me. Don’t know if he killed the man himself, think he hired it out,” Bright said.</p>
<p>Gil held out a hand. “Rest now. You can tell us about that later when the artist gets here. You have to rest, Malcolm.  You’re barely out of the woods. The last thing you need is to overdo it and the infection gets a hold of you because you’re worn out.”</p>
<p>Bright made an exasperated sound but he put the head of the bed back down but not entirely flat. Being flat on his back probably made his injuries hurt more. He squirmed a bit, yelping when he rolled onto a tender spot. Jessica settled him down and covered him to his chin.</p>
<p>“You’re shaking. Are you afraid?” She asked.</p>
<p>“Chilled.”</p>
<p>“I’ll go tell the nurses to bring a heated blanket in,” Edrisa said, and she hurried from the room.</p>
<p>“Is there anything else we can do for you? If you need another book, I will get you one from the gift shop, anything you want,” Dani said, showcasing her anxiety over Bright and all his horrifying injuries.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shook his head. “Coffee…”</p>
<p>“You know you can’t have that.” Dani chuckled. “Nice try though. Why don’t you sleep like Gil said. We’ll be here the whole time. No one is leaving you alone here. And even if we did, there are police guards outside the door. You’re safe here.”</p>
<p>Bright sighed, shutting his eyes. He squeezed the moose tight. “That’s what I need.”</p>
<p>Within the minute, he was asleep, even before Edrisa came back with the heated blanket. She and Jessica tucked it around Bright anyhow. Dani was right. No one was leaving him alone just now. He needed them close and they would stay, most likely in shifts but Bright would not wake up to an empty room.  Gil wouldn’t have to do a thing to ensure that. Malcolm would feel safe. They would accept nothing less.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just one more chapter, can you believe it? Thank you for all the support so far.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Left For Dead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter Thirty-One – Left For Dead</p><p>Malcolm couldn’t get comfortable on the hospital bed. How ridiculous was that after all he had been through? He’d been moved back to the city and all he really wanted was to go home. Of course, he wasn’t sure that would feel comfortable either. Shelby had snatched him from his loft, ruining the feeling of safety, maybe forever. That meant either going to Gil’s for a while or more likely to Mother’s. After everything with Endicott, the horror the house represented loomed fresh. He didn’t know how his mother handled it. Though that’s probably where he’d end up for a while until he was more independent. He fully expected to be installed in the family room on a hospital bed because his mother wouldn’t want him to climb the stairs with his leg and foot wounds. There would be another nurse, maybe even Ilsa again. It was also likely Gil would be staying at the house.</p><p>He shifted again, almost knocking the moose to the floor. He’d kept it with him when they transported him. It was comforting to have the stuffed animal around, basking in the spirit in which Edrisa had gifted it to him. He liked having the constant reminder of his friends who had finally gone back to work. As much as he loved having them with him - because they made him feel safe - he knew it couldn’t last. </p><p>All Malcolm really wanted in this moment was real coffee and the end of the pain in his leg. They had finally removed the packing and stitched him closed but he ached. His badly wounded shoulder did too. At least no tendons had been ruptured or he’d be out for months. Of course, he might not get to go back to work any time soon. Even if his body healed, Gil was not about to budge on letting him return until he did his due diligence with the therapists. Malcolm couldn’t blame him. He knew his head wasn’t well. Gil knew it. Probably everyone did. They had seen those videos, all of them. </p><p>The shame of it burned him, knowing Dani and maybe even Edrisa had seen him naked and beaten. That any of them had seen his fear and humiliation killed something inside him. He knew they wouldn’t blame him but Malcolm hated it anyhow. Sometimes when they were in the room with him, he had trouble looking at them. Yes, he definitely needed some therapy. He wondered if he should have them come to a session or two once he arranged for his care. A little group therapy might be in order.</p><p>Malcolm paged through the channels on the TV. Nothing looked good in the middle of the day. It rarely did. He settled for whatever Star Trek was on BBC America at the moment. He wanted his phone but Shelby had destroyed it. Gil promised to go look for his tablet as soon as he could because at least then he’d have his eBooks.</p><p>Hearing voices in the hall, Malcolm smoothed his hair down and made sure his pajamas weren’t gaping open. That was the best thing his mother had brought him in the days since he’d been rescued. The catheter and the heart monitor were gone so he no longer needed the hospital gown. Of course, she had gone out and bought him new pjs that unbuttoned to make it easier to deal with the wounds on his back. They were soft as a cloud and a deep wine color. He was probably the best dressed patient in the ward.  He preened his messy hair a bit more hearing Dani and Edrisa talking to his guards. He needed something more than dry shampoo at this point. Wait? Who was that other person talking? Was that Tally?</p><p>Malcolm arranged his covers like armor. Was he ready to be seen? At least Tally hadn’t seen the horrible videos but had JT told her anything about them? Maybe. Nothing he could do about that. Maybe they’d have coffee for him. Damn, his mind was darting from one thing to the next. His meds weren’t leveled out yet. He didn’t have to pretend to smile when they came into his room. He actually felt it, a good sign really, that Shelby hadn’t killed everything in him. “Ladies, good afternoon.”</p><p>“You’re looking a lot better today, Bright,” Dani said, putting a huge to-go cup on his tray. “Doc said you could have caffeine again in moderation.”</p><p>“Moderated versus what? An actual lagoon of coffee?” He grinned, grabbing the coffee like Dani had just handed him the most interesting case of his life. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting this. Fairly sure I wasn’t just in benzo withdrawal. What is this, not that it matters? I’d drink station house coffee at this point.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure this is better. It’s a salted caramel mocha because that’s what we all got.” She waved a hand at Edrisa and Tally.</p><p>“Tally, I’m surprised to see you here. Thank you for coming.”</p><p>Tally sat in the chair closest to the bathroom door. “I had to see for myself how you’re doing. You know how JT is. I ask ‘how is Bright,’ and he gives one and two word answers.” </p><p>“I’m…not great but I’m healing. Dani, Edrisa and JT have been standing guard and I appreciate that. It’s…” Malcolm let that thought trail off.</p><p>“You don’t have to explain. I think we all get it,” Tally said.</p><p>“We also brought you a little something else that we thought you’d enjoy,” Edrisa said, putting a small box on his tray. “Not sure if you’ve been cleared for this but it can’t hurt. Your wounds weren’t to your GI tract this time.”</p><p>Malcolm lifted his eyebrows and opened the lid to see a fat éclair oozing cream obscenely from one end. “That is a lot of pastry! Surely you want to share…”</p><p>Dani whipped up a hand. “We had our own. You eat that. You deserve something sweet and decadent after all you went through.”</p><p>“But…”</p><p>“We’ll have them put green Jell-O on your menu if you keep protesting.” Dani shot him the look she always did when she thought he was being foolish.</p><p>He pouted at her. “I will eat the éclair.” To his delight, there was a little plastic knife in the box. He didn’t relish trying to shove the end of the éclair into his mouth. He carved off a bit of it. The chocolate on the top was rich and dark and the cream luscious without being overly sweet. He shut his eyes and savored it. “That is amazing.”</p><p>“Tally knew a place,” Edrisa said. “I’m going to have to go there more often.”</p><p>“It’s a good place. Just don’t tell JT. He’s on a health food kick. He’s worried about picking up baby weight to match me.” Tally patted her belly but Malcolm was hard pressed to see much change in her body yet. </p><p>“Your secret is safe with me. But giving him a little piece might go a long way to say I’m sorry I tasered him in my delusional state.”</p><p>“I don’t think he blames you for that,” Tally said.</p><p>Malcolm didn’t imagine JT did, though he had to have been pretty sore after that. “Still. I appreciate it. Any news, Dani?”</p><p>She shook her head. “Not really. Shelby’s still busy not talking and her lawyer’s making a lot of noise but it’s not as if the FBI doesn’t have a solid case against her for the human trafficking. And as soon as they’re done with her, they’re throwing her to us for your kidnapping and assault. I wish I could tell you we’ve found Adamos, though your sketch artist picture of him was good enough for someone on Cordova’s team to recognize him as Theodore Athenos. I think they’ve pulled in Interpol at this point in case he’s fled back to Greece.”</p><p>Malcolm sighed. He didn’t know why the idea of Adamos out there scared him as badly as it did. The man hadn’t touched him but he knew what Adamos was and what he could do. Someone was dead because of him. Gil and the others had been dancing around that topic and the topic that involved their search for him that took them to various houses. He knew whatever they had found had been bad.</p><p>“Are you sleeping at all?” Dani sat close to his bed and she took his hand. “You really do look a little better today.”</p><p>Malcolm averted his gaze. He hated answering this question because it never had a good answer. “Sleeping is always hard. I have convinced them not to medicate me into sleep because it traps me in the nightmares. But truthfully the nightmares are coming hard and fast regardless. They will sedate me if I’m particularly agitated. I hate that. I’m getting in cat naps mostly. I’m grateful to have you here, to see anyone at all. It’s when I’m alone it’s the hardest which frightens me.”</p><p>“You don’t have to be alone,” Edrisa said.</p><p>“But I will eventually. I cannot see myself moving back in with Mother so that means at some point I have to go back to my loft.” He made a face. “Which is becoming a thing with Mother. She’s afraid for me to be alone. I’m not exactly thrilled about it. I’m half expecting her to waltz in here and say she’s sold the building and I’ll be living somewhere else.”</p><p>“Would that be the worst thing?” Dani asked. He saw the hesitation in her eyes, as if she knew the line was close and she didn’t want to cross it.</p><p>“That depends on what happens next. I can’t just move into an apartment complex. I tried that in Cambridge and again in Virginia and had to move back out. I <i>scream</i> in the middle of the night. Neighbors complain, which is why the loft is so good. I’m the only one in the building.  Knowing Mother, she might have another building that could be converted or will track one down.”</p><p>“It wouldn’t have the bad memories attached,” Dani said.</p><p>He rolled his shoulder, an involuntary response that ended with him groaning. “I should not have done that. It hurts.”</p><p>“Do they have it stitched up now?” Edrisa touched his arm.</p><p>He nodded and reached for his coffee with his other hand. “It’s doing well according to the doctor. I can’t complain about that. I’m out of that basement. I shouldn’t be complaining about anything right down to living with Mother.”</p><p>“I disagree,” Tally said. “You went through hell. If you need to vent, go for it. I know I wouldn’t want to move back in with my mother either. I love her. I know she has plans to be there for me in those first weeks after the baby comes but I’m already dreading it as much as I know I’ll want the help.”</p><p>“You look like you’re doing well,” Malcolm said, deciding the topic needed changed.</p><p>“I’m not bad. JT’s still a little freaked out. He’s running around the house trying to make everything easier for me. It’s so cute.”</p><p>Malcolm managed a faint smile. “He will be a good father.”</p><p>“He’s worried about it.”</p><p>“I know. We talked about it. I gave him the best advice I could.”</p><p>“Don’t be a serial killer?” Dani raised her eyebrows at him and he wondered if JT had told her that or if she had guessed. </p><p>“Best advice I have,” he confirmed, sighing softly. He drank more coffee but it didn’t take the edge off his tiredness. </p><p>“Where is Gil? I thought he’d be here,” Dani said.</p><p>“He took Mother home so she could get some rest. She was sleeping in the reclining chairs but you could tell she wasn’t getting much rest. Gil needs the rest even more. He’s ragged and he was sleeping in the chairs here too.”</p><p>“We know. He wasn’t going to stop trying to find you,” Edrisa said.</p><p>Dani pointed at her. “Exactly and we did try to gently get him to go rest but he can be as stubborn as you.”</p><p>Malcolm snorted. “You don’t have to tell me. Have I thanked you for all you did, you, JT, Edrisa, just everyone? If you hadn’t found me in the woods, I would have died out there.”</p><p>Dani took his hand again and gave it another squeeze. “You have but you were pretty foggy at the time. Shelby was going to leave you for dead or worse. I don’t know what her men were going to do to you.”</p><p>“Bring me back I think.” Malcolm shut his eyes, trembling.  He pulled his hands free of Dani’s as a wave of terror washed over him. He covered his face. Tears spilled over his cheeks hot and fast. A well had been tapped and he wasn’t able to shut it off. He sobbed uncontrollably. Nausea spiraled through him. Shelby was going to take him back. She was going to put him in a trunk and smuggle him across the border, and then he’d be gone for good. A strange keening noise echoed in his ears. It took him a moment to realize it was coming from him. </p><p>Someone touched his head and he jumped but didn’t uncover his face. A different set of fingers, cooler to the touch stroked his arm. He heard Edrisa telling him to breathe. He struggled to comply. In and out. He followed her words, calming down. He peeked out from his cupped fingers. Edrisa sat on the bed next to his hip, a plastic basin on her lap in case she needed to get it under his chin if he threw up.</p><p>Dani had pulled away the bed tray and stood pressed against his air mattress, soothing his head. Tally sat at the foot of the bed, her hand resting on his ankle. He slowly got his breathing under control but his face was wet, his nose running. Dani reached back and got the tissues off the bed tray. She pulled out several and tucked them into his damp fingers. </p><p>As he wiped his face and blew his nose, Emily, his nurse for the day came in with a syringe. Without preamble she injected it into his central line. She must have seen the break down from the doorway without him even knowing she was there. </p><p>“What was that?” Edrisa asked.</p><p>“Ativan. The doctor has a standing order for it if Malcolm gets agitated. Mostly we have to give it to him at night if he’s screaming. It’ll make him sleepy.”</p><p>“I hate it,” he murmured. He’d probably go to sleep on his friends now.</p><p>“I know but doctor’s orders.” Emily said. “Are you okay now, Malcolm? Is there anything else I can do for you?”</p><p>“I’m cold.” Truth was he felt as cold as he had been in the basement. It was ridiculous. Hospitals were cool but not like that damp basement. He had on the best pajamas but the bedding wasn’t that great.</p><p>“I’ll get you another blanket,” Emily promised, sailing out the door.</p><p>“Are you okay now, Malcolm?” Tally asked, giving his ankle a gentle squeeze before levering herself up off the bed.</p><p>He nodded, not trusting his answer otherwise.</p><p>“That bed is something,” she said, sitting back down in her chair.</p><p>“Air mattresses help displace the body weight and keep pressure off any injuries. It is probably pretty comfortable,” Edrisa said, keeping her seat next to him.</p><p>“It is,” he said, sighing softly. He pointed to the tray. “Can I have my coffee back please?”</p><p>“Of course.” Dani pushed the tray back and handed it to him. “And seriously, are you okay?”</p><p>He shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”</p><p>“No one cares about that. You’ve more than earned the right to have a meltdown, Bright,” Dani cut him off.</p><p>Malcolm sighed again and drank his coffee, settling into a deep quiet. Finally, he set the cup down. “She was going to keep me. Maybe for the first time in her life, Shelby found something she truly enjoyed. She’s a sadist who finally allowed herself to let go. By the time the power went out and I escaped, she was planning to take me out of the country with her. She had her doctor treat me not because she was afraid of losing merchandise. At that point, letting me die would have been the easiest thing but she had big plans for me. Dying might have been better.”</p><p>“We’re glad it didn’t come to that. She is a horrible person,” Edrisa scowled, standing up so Emily who had returned with a blanket could settle it around him.</p><p>“Better, Malcolm?” she asked.</p><p>He nodded, his eyelids getting heavy as the Ativan worked into his system. He gulped for breath trying to hold it together until Emily retreated. He shook under the covers and he clutched Edrisa’s stuffed moose to his chest.</p><p>“Bright, what’s wrong?” Dani stroked his hair again.</p><p>“I feel the sedative affect kicking in. They did that to me, every day. Sedate me and sedate me again.” The actions of the drugs on his mind threatened to send him right back to that basement with the cameras on him and him being helpless.</p><p>“You’re not in that basement and she is not here. You are safe. You don’t have to be afraid.”</p><p>Malcolm rubbed a hand against his eye, feeling the tears starting to well up again. He didn’t want to break back down. “I am afraid.”</p><p>“And that’s why you aren’t going to be alone here,” Tally said. “Even if Dani and Edrisa get called into work, I have the whole day today. I can be here until your mother and Gil get back.”</p><p>A few more tears slipped his control but he didn’t fracture. “Thank you, Tally. You don’t know what it means.”</p><p>“I’m happy to help.”</p><p>“I hate that you saw me the way Shelby liked me.” He couldn’t look any of them in the eye. The quiver in his lips couldn’t be controlled.  “I know you’ve seen the videos.”</p><p>“Bright,” Dani started.</p><p>He shook his head. “I overheard you and Gil talking when you thought I was still out. I assumed that it was likely the FBI might find them. If Shelby was that worried someone was close to uncovering her trafficking organization, then it stood to reason someone in the FBI would see the videos. Then Shelby learned the FBI had seen at least one of the videos. I hate it. I hate that you had to see something so awful.”</p><p>Dani rubbed his arm. “Bright, don’t. Don’t even think on it. It was hard. Not going to lie. It took something out of us because of how much pain and fear you were in. You’re our friend. You’re Gil’s son and you know that. He wouldn’t stay out of it, not even when we all worried about his health because that’s what you mean to him. We saw the videos but we’re not the ones who have to live with what happened. Anything we can do to help you get through it….”</p><p>“Call us any time,” Edrisa added emphatically.</p><p>Malcolm gulped at air like a landed fish. He was not going to cry again even though he knew damn well it was likely he would, in spite of himself.  “Thank you. Did…someone really try to blackmail my mother with one of the videos?”</p><p>“Sorry but yes. Cricket’s son, Connor. I get the impression Cricket is not your mother’s favorite person even before this.”</p><p>He snorted. “Cricket is not a nice person as elitist and classist as they come, and Mother might as well have held the scalpel with my father as far as Cricket and so many others were concern. Never lets Mom forget that’s what you get when you marry down the social ladder. Apparently serial killers are the prize at the bottom of the middle-class box.”</p><p>“I like that you think doctors are middle class,” Dani replied. </p><p>“I know. Sometimes Mother’s world is a very ugly place.” He fought to keep his eyes open. The Ativan came for him hard. “I was so alone. I don’t want to be alone like that again. I was sure I was going to die in that basement.”</p><p>“You didn’t. You got the hell out on your own in spite of how wounded and sick you were. You impressed us all,” Dani said.</p><p>“And we’re not going to let you be alone, at least not until you’re ready for it. That said, I do have to get back to the morgue soon,” Edrisa said. “But I have some time yet. I want to hug you so much but I know it’ll hurt your wounds. I can do this though.” She took one of his hands and squeezed it before circling her thumb over the back of it. “Touch is so important to us and you’ve had nothing but terrible touches for too long. You need some good ones.”</p><p>He grazed his fingers over hers. “Thank you, Edrisa. You’ve been wonderful.”</p><p>“And you need another book, don’t you?”</p><p>“I never say no to books. Okay, I’m not a giant romance fan but another one like you brought last time would be great,” Malcolm said. It would make Edrisa feel like she was helping and well, she was. He needed all the distractions he could get because he knew that he wouldn’t be back to his main distractor for weeks. </p><p>“What did you bring him last time?” Dani asked.</p><p>“It was a fantasy book.”</p><p>“Oh, I like that too, actually,” Dani said, and Malcolm swore Edrisa lit up like the tree at Rockefeller Center. “I have some you might like.”</p><p>“Bring them please. I’m barely allowed out of this bed. I’m <i>bored</i>. When I’m not frightened or waking up thinking I’m still in the basement, I’m bored,” he said with more blatant honesty than he usually did when it came to his mental health. He wasn’t going to fool these women, probably not even Tally, not after the way he had crumbled. “It helps to have a distraction.”</p><p>“I will pick you out a couple books off my shelves but I probably do more eBooks than you and Edrisa. I’ve seen your library, Bright.” </p><p>“You can get them from the public library. I’m not picky about that.” Malcolm made a face. He hated having to do what he needed to do next with an audience but it might help him with not having to call for a nurse. He pushed the bed tray to one side and flipped his covers back.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Dani shot him a ‘you behave’ look.</p><p>Malcolm struggled to swing his legs out of the bed. The maneuver tugged on his shoulder stitches as well as the ones in his side and leg. He pointed to the restroom and looked around his bed for his felted slipper and the walking shoe for his broken foot.</p><p>Dani spotted the shoe gear and helped him into it. Edrisa slipped an arm under him on his less injured side and motioned for Dani to go to his other side.</p><p>“Dani, stand there so he can steady himself if he needs to,” Edrisa instructed, and turned to him, adding, “Do you need a three count?”</p><p>“No, I almost got this on my own. It’s the stitches when they pull that is hanging me up. Also having the surgical shoe on the foot with the broken metatarsal is throwing off my balance. I swear I was better running through the woods barefoot.”</p><p>“Which is how I assume you broke it?” Tally said.</p><p>“I had so much happen, I don’t know how I broke it,” he lied. He was fairly sure it happened when they buried him alive but he didn’t know if JT had told Tally that or would want her to know. “I’m ready, Edrisa.”</p><p>He pushed off the mattress and Edrisa hauled him to his feet with the expertise of someone who had a lot of experience moving patients. He realized that she had to have earned that in medical school even before she learned having people’s lives in her hands made her too anxious to function. She no doubt helped moved people all the time in her job. Dani put a hand under his hand, letting him grab on and steady himself.</p><p>“Okay, that Ativan is really kicking in,” he muttered.</p><p>“Are you sure this is a good idea then?” Dani asked.</p><p>“I don’t want to do it in a bed pan. I’ll just go slow.” As if he could go at any other pace at this moment. </p><p>“Okay, another question, are you wearing an actual cloud?” Dani fingered his sleeve.</p><p>“Right?” Edrisa asked, sliding her grip on him down to his waist and away from his broken ribs.</p><p>“Mother found me soft pajamas.”</p><p>“I want your mother to shop for me.” Dani grinned.</p><p>He chuckled, and then moaned as his ribs reminded him that was a dumb idea. He took a couple of steps, leaning heavy on Edrisa who was remarkably sturdy for her tiny size. Together they got him to the bathroom and to the metal railing. They let him take it from there. He noticed the door wasn’t shut all the way in case he collapsed.</p><p>Malcolm peed, thankful he didn’t have to sit and try to get back up again. As washing up, he shuffled his way to the door. Did he hear JT out there now? Edrisa and Dani closed in on him but he waved them off. He could do this. If he could run naked through the woods filled with Rohypnol, he could make it back to his bed fully dressed and filled with Ativan.</p><p>“Hello, JT.”</p><p>“Hey, look who’s on his feet.” JT’s brow knit. “Should you even be standing?”</p><p>“He didn’t want to use a bed pan and who can blame him. Go help him back to bed.” Tally flapped a hand at JT, and then she leaned forward. “Forgive me but I have to.” She touched his sleeve. “Oh, man, Dani’s right. Your mother needs to shop for us.  JT needs those.”</p><p>“I’ll never fit in them.” JT chuckled, putting a steadying hand in the small of Malcolm’s back. “Okay, I see your point. These are amazing. I don’t even like pjs but I’d wear this.”</p><p>“I don’t either for that matter but it’s better than a hospital gown, and they need access to my port so this works.” Malcolm pointed to the central line’s heplock tucked into the curve of his clavicle. “I’ll tell Mother everyone wants pajamas. Honestly after all you did to help find me, that’s a small reward.” He stared at his bed. “Getting back down is the hard part.”</p><p>“How do you want to do this?” JT asked.</p><p>“Just let me hold onto your arm.” Malcolm managed to lower himself without pulling on his stitches much. Edrisa helped him back out of his shoe gear and supported his feet as he swung his legs back over the bed. He resituated himself with blankets and the moose.</p><p>“You still have the moose,” JT said.</p><p>“Michael,” Edrisa said. “His name is Michael.”</p><p>“Honestly, it’s helping. Whenever I was really sick growing up, I’d get to snuggle with one of Gil and Jackie’s cats, either at their home or Mother would let them bring the cat to her house. I can’t have a cat here so Michael is good,” Malcolm said. “But aren’t you supposed to be at work, JT?”</p><p>“I am. I’m doing notifications.” He smiled slightly. “I didn’t want to do it over the phone but you needed know, we caught Adamos. You don’t have to worry about him and he couldn’t sing about Shelby fast enough.”</p><p>Malcolm didn’t really hear more than ‘we caught Adamos.’ The shakes captured him hard and as much as he wanted to put a halt to them, he couldn’t. It <i>hurt</i> shaking so violently. The tears made a reappearance and he buried his face in his blankets. The comforting hands returned as well, soothing his arms and his head. Malcolm didn’t make much noise this time. He didn’t want them to give him yet another dose of Ativan and snow him under for hours, putting him in another prison: the one his mind created for him.</p><p>When he finally wrested control of his emotions back from his limbic system, Malcolm lowered the blankets, not at all surprised to see Dani and Edrisa right at his side. He took the offered tissues and wiped his face. “Sorry. I was more afraid than I realized.” <i>Fear is your stumbling block.</i> As if he hadn’t good reason to fear things, back then and now.</p><p>“No apologies needed, bro. This is why I didn’t want to just call Dani and tell her. You needed to hear it in person, to make it real. I can’t stay. I need to get back and I’ve already told Gil. He’ll handle telling your mother.”</p><p>“He’s already told me.”</p><p>Malcolm jumped as his mother appeared with Gil in the doorway. “Mom, shouldn’t you be resting?”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure that’s my line. You look exhausted, Malcolm.”  She hustled past JT and pulled a chair closer to the bed. </p><p>“They gave me Ativan. I’m sure I’ll be asleep soon.”</p><p>“That’s probably my clue to leave now that your Mom is here,” Tally said. </p><p>“I appreciate you being here, Tally. I truly do,” he said.</p><p>“I’m glad to keep you company and seriously if no one else can be here, I have a pretty flexible schedule.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“I have to go back to the station. I can’t take you home, Tally,” JT said.</p><p>“No worries. I’ll take public transit.”</p><p>“You don’t have to. Hang on, Adolpho can’t have gotten far. He can drive you home. I’ll be here a while and won’t need him,” Mother said.</p><p>“Oh, Mrs. Whitly you don’t have to.”</p><p>“It’s no trouble. There, he’ll meet you in the front lobby.”</p><p>“How will I know him?”</p><p>“He’s probably the only chauffer in a Bentley,” Gil said wryly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll walk you down,” his mother said, surprising Malcolm. “I want to thank you myself.”</p><p>“Thanks. I get to go home in style!” Tally laughed.</p><p>“Don’t get too used to it.” JT grinned. </p><p>“JT, can I get a ride back to the station with you?” Edrisa asked.</p><p>Malcolm almost laughed at JT’s deer in the headlights look but he agreed. They left along with his mother and Tally. </p><p>Dani looked between him and Gil. “I have the day off. I’d like to stay for a while if you don’t mind.”</p><p>“I want you to stay,” he said hurriedly. </p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p>Gil dropped into a chair, taking the TV remote with him. “Why don’t you shut your eyes, Malcolm? You do look completely wrung out.”</p><p>“I am. It’s been…emotional today.” He shut his eyes. “Thank you both for being here.”</p><p>“I’m happy to get to be here for you,” Dani whispered in his ear. She brushed her lips against his cheek.</p><p>Malcolm sighed softly as she sat down and took his hand. He locked his fingers with her, trying to think of something intelligent to say back without sounding maudlin. Instead, Malcolm felt himself drifting on the Ativan. It was too much like being held in the bonds of the Rohypnol and GHB cocktail Shelby had kept him controlled with. Panic spurred him upright and Dani squeezed his hand hard.</p><p>Gil’s calloused hand rubbed Malcolm’s wrist. “What’s wrong, Malcolm?”</p><p>He made a face, digging the fingers of his free hand into Michael the Moose. “The Ativan…Shelby kept me drugged. It feels the same.”</p><p>“It’s not,” Gil said. “Because we’re here. You are not going to have to fear anything if you shut your eyes.”</p><p>“Exactly,” Dani added. “Gil and your mom have been sleeping in those reclining chairs. You know this. I hate seeing you afraid, Bright. But right now, there is nothing to fear. You’re here with us. You’re recovering, and we’re not going anywhere.”</p><p>Malcolm tried to believe that. His head did, his heart was less sure. What if someone came in while they were sleeping? He knew he was being ridiculous. There was a police guard on his door. His nurses were attentive and his family highly protective.</p><p>“Maybe if you put the head of your bed down you can rest better,” Dani suggested.</p><p>“Not all the way down,” he protested, groggy. “It pulls the stitches.”</p><p>She put the controls in his hand. “Find what’s comfortable for you.”</p><p>As he did that, his mother returned, smiling. “Mrs. Tarmel is a delightful woman. Once you’re home and feeling up to it, we need to have them over for dinner.”</p><p>“Does Bright actually eat dinner, Mrs. Whitly?” Dani teased.</p><p>His mother waved a hand. “Him? No, he’ll eat the soup, pick at whatever the main course is, hope Gil texts him to tell him there’s a case so he can run out the door but if there’s a dessert, he’ll absolutely devour it.”</p><p>“So long as it’s not red or green Jell-0.”</p><p>He narrowed his eyes at Dani. “I must be getting better. You’re teasing me.”</p><p>“I had to listen to that Jell-O rant trapped in the car. Expect it to be brought up now and then,” Dani replied, and Gil snorted.</p><p>Malcolm sighed. “Invite them, Mother. Dani and Edrisa too, make it a petite soiree. Make it dress for dinner because I want to see JT in a suit.”</p><p>“And you must be feeling better because you’re being snarky,” Gil said. “But what you’re supposed to be doing is shutting your eyes.”</p><p>“I will. Here, have a nibble on the giant éclair the ladies brought me. I can’t eat it all and I don’t want it go to waste.” He patted the box. “I had the TV set to Star Trek if it’s still on.” </p><p>Dani raised her eyebrows at him. Malcolm smiled faintly, happy to surprise her. He shut his eyes, giving her fingers a squeeze. He drifted off, feeling safe and happy for the first time in a long time. He was finally safe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Author’s Note: Here's a huge THANK YOU to everyone who supported this story, especially those who took the time to leave your comments and kudos. They are very much appreciated.</p><p> Since I started this story in October, my state has had three big human trafficking busts that I’m aware of. One was less than forty miles from my home. Dozens have been arrested including a famous umpire and a high-powered lawyer. It is so bad in my area that my university had a mandatory lecture on the subject to both help keep our students safe and to help them recognize others in danger. If that’s not terrifying, I don’t know what is. Here are a few links on recognizing and helping those in danger.<br/>https://www.acf.hhs.gov/trauma-toolkit/victims-of-human-trafficking<br/>https://www.publicservicedegrees.org/be-the-change/stop-human-trafficking/<br/>https://www.state.gov/20-ways-you-can-help-fight-human-trafficking/</p>
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